The Age of Spyro: The Mysterious Blue Hut
by Chad Rick Lesens
Summary: After saving the Realms of Avalar from The Dark Master, the Purple Savior and the former Terror of the Skies stumble upon the most unusual chamber they have ever seen, and discover the strangest creature. With the help of this strange Physician from the Stars, the two must return to Avalar and face enemies alongside allies, both of which are new and old.
1. Old Memories

One

Old Memories

It was impossible. His search was nearly as endless as the numerous volumes that surround him in this underground chambers.

_How am I supposed to find them if they are nowhere to be found in any of these texts_, he pondered to himself with a frustrating growl and a huff of smoke emanating from his nostrils. He never thought it would be so difficult. At first he began searching in _The_ _Book of Fallen Dragons_, for whenever one dies, a page pertaining to that dragon would appear, but it was to no avail. He then organized his search by narrowing down the books in terms of their relevance on the subject which he has inquired, first by title, then by content. But that was when he began to grow extremely desperate, examining every chronicle, page by page, searching in agonizing futility for the lost Savior of the Realms and his dear friend.

_Damn it! Where in the blazes are you, hatchlings?_ It has been nearly ten years since there were any signs of them, whether it be their location or intended destination. However, it was not as if he spent the entire time examining the texts for his long-lost friends, for he had to record into the Books of Time the events that occurred in this current age. It was after the defeat of The Dark Master, and the salvation of the Realms of Avalar that a new age succeeded the previous. And as each age is preceded by another, so also did a Chronicler precede Ignitus.

It is only after recording events that Ignitus regularly searched for the Purple Savior and his companion, the former Terror of the Skies at the end of each day. But in these ten years, nothing has ever come up to indicate their presence anywhere in the Realms, not even a sighting by word of mouth, nor a murmur. It was almost as if they simply faded out of existence and into oblivion. For all he knew, they sacrificed themselves in order to defeat Malefor.

After the Realms were reassembled, and the world of Avalar restored to its entirety, each of The Guardians, Terrador, Cyril and Volteer, conducted a searching party throughout the entire world. They even paid a visit to the White Isles with the help of Sparx, Spyro's adoptive brother. But despite his efforts to remember, they never found the entrance that the young purple dragon took to speak with the previous Chronicler. Even if they succeeded in making contact, and reuniting with their colleague and friend, there is nothing that Ignitus could offer them as consolation. As far as he can tell, since the dawn of this new age, Spyro and Cynder never existed.

After a year, the Guardians gave up on their search, declaring Spyro and Cynder only to be missing through the insistence of the Irregular Dragnofly, as Sparx has since been named. They could no longer search for them, for the last remnants of Malefor's army of apes began to raid villages in the hopes of retaliating the loss of their leader by terrorizing the inhabitants of every Realm. This sparked the rising attacks along every coastline by pirates, even to the point of looting ports upriver. If that was not enough, packs and wild clans of various breeds joined the apes in their pillages, from wolves of the Tundra to lions of the Grasslands.

However, the Guardians were not without their allies, one of which is the cheetah clan of Spyro's friend Hunter. They and the neighboring clans of their brethren united alongside those of the moles, who bravely defended Warfang from the undefeated armies of Malefor. Sparx also contributed greatly in their cause for healing and reconstruction, for he volunteered, along with his fellow dragonflies of the Swamp to act as reconnaissance. Along with every available dragon, including hatchlings that were roughly Spyro and Cynder's age, these allies led by the Guardians gradually gained ground against the ruthless renegades wreaking havoc throughout the world.

Seven years into the conflict, however, the air vessels of the pirates began to possess more firepower, using state-of-the-art weaponry that was far beyond even that of the moles, who were experts in crafting weapons as well as mining and architectural construction. It was shortly after this that the Guardian Alliance encountered outlandish air ships piloted by the most unusual creatures, who wore armor and clothing to protect their furless skins, walking upright and about as tall as a cheetah. But more importantly, they possessed weapons, which they shared with the Alliance, to counter those of the pirates, joining this increasingly terrible bloodshed in the process.

It was these turn of events in ten years' time that prompted Ignitus to grow ever more greatly concerned to the point of desperation.

_If there is no sign of Spyro and Cynder, I'm afraid all hope is lost._ He ravaged every bookshelf in every chamber of his vast library, hoping against hope, to find a single mention of his lost friends. His beastly attacks against the shelves nearly prevented him from noticing one last volume at the corner of his eye. He calmed himself as he slowly made his way towards the last bookshelf standing, with the last book properly placed in the corner of the top shelf. It was the title on the spine that caught his attention even more as he reached for it: _The Disordered Chronicles of the Wandering Physician_.

_The answer tends to be the last place one ever looks. _With his telekinetic abilities, Ignitus carefully lifted the text, and turned to the last filled-in page, which was several pages in. The first thing he noticed, to his relief, was the hand-drawn illustrations depicting Spyro the Purple Savior, and Cynder, the once great Terror of the Skies. They were side by side, both in a crouching position, as if to pounce on the reader that they faced, baring their teeth, and with eyes showing venomous rage. It was the figure in between the two hatchlings that suddenly drew Ignitus' attention.

It appeared to be one of those strange creatures that arrived to aid the Alliance, but without the unusual battle armor or weapons. Instead, it appeared to be in even more foreign attire, wearing a long cloak that had sleeves rather than a hood, and underneath it was a pin-striped uniform of sorts, with a thin piece of cloth tied around the neck under the collar. In its hand was a cylindrical piece of metal, raised to the level of its head as if reveal its threatening power. The face of the creature, like all the others, resembled that of an ape's only slightly, with a different nasal bone marrow and jawline. Its wide eyes and square brows seemed to express a sense of vigilance and determination, as well as a deep sense of exhaustion. It was not the kind that Ignitus would expect from a wearied fighter, but from one who has seen far too many cold and dreary winters, and too few springs. It was then he remembered that he saw that face before.

_So, you have returned at last, great wanderer. And just in time too._ He then read the inscribed text beneath the illustration, which widened his eyes even more. _But this is no return to Avalar for you, is it?_

* * *

He simply could not believe what he had done. All his efforts to do what is right, all that he learned, everything he knew about himself seemed to be falling apart. It was almost as if he forgot who he was completely, only to be reminded by the painful realization of his dreadful error. And to top it all off: it was at the expense of a great person's life. A fantastic person, and a wonderful woman, ended her own life to repair what _he _had damaged as best as possible.

_Everything that I am, and everything I stood for._ _It's gone_. He could not possibly hope to redeem himself from such a destructive act. _If she hadn't pulled the trigger, there could've been a tear in the fabric of reality itself_.

There seemed to be no way to call it even, except to face his end as well. But all he could do was wait in his vast and empty TARDIS for that to come about.

_"He will knock four times,"_ the Doctor repeated to himself over, and over again like a hammer striking down on a spike into the earth. He waited endlessly for those knocks to come, or at least something that could cause a chain reaction of events that will lead him to his demise. Anything that could finally ease his mind off of…

Suddenly a bright flash of light filled the console room of his TARDIS, blinding him as the cloister bell of the TARDIS tolled in his ears. Spontaneously a great force violently pushed the Doctor down, causing his hands and knees to hit hard against the steel-paneled floor.

* * *

It was the merciless clangor of bells that brought her out of her unconscious state, which ceased as soon as she awoke. As she opened her emerald eyes, and adjusted them to the light, she found herself in a large chamber, almost like the mausoleum that was at the heart of the Dragon Temple in the Swamp. On the walls and arching ceiling throughout the chamber were circles emanating golden beams of light, each inside hexagonal concaves in the walls. From the feel on her paws and underbelly she was lying on top of a cold, steel floor. Upon looking around as she rose up, she noticed a tall translucent pillar shining a fluorescent blue light at the center of the chamber, and at is base was a strange table shaped like a circular reef. Circumventing the center column were coral-like pillars, branching upward into two limbs from one solid base. She was so deeply shocked by this wonder that she nearly forgot what happened to her. It was turning her head to find a seemingly lifeless, purple dragon lying across the chamber on its side that reminded her.

"Spyro," Cynder exclaimed as she attempted to run over towards her companion, only to feel her claws snagged. She yelled in pain as she fell back, head first, onto the ground. Lifting her head to look at her paws, she noticed that her claws were caught in the small gaps that were between thin, intersecting steel bars. Carefully, Cynder raised her body off the floor and slowly removed her claws out of the steel floor. Upon examination of the space in the chamber, she concluded that there was not enough to spread her wings to fly. She then lifted her claws from the floor and quickly made her way over to Spyro on the pads of her paws.

"Spyro! Are you alright," she asked fearfully as she used her head to nudge on his shoulder. She checked for any injuries on the body, noticing the golden-yellow scales of his underbelly move back and forth.

_Okay. Good, he's still breathing_. Looking back at the face of her friend, Cynder noticed the eyelids flutter briefly before pools of solid purple revealed themselves.

"Spyro!" She placed her head carefully underneath his neck as he rolled back onto his belly, slowly helping him lift his head off the floor.

"Cynder," he answered with a grunt, "what…what happened?"

"I'm not sure," she said, moving her head back up to the level of his, "can't you remember anything."

"I…I don…wait," Spyro slowly calmed himself as he took in his surroundings.

"We were at the heart of the planet. It was falling apart, and then I…did something to put it back together."

"Yeah, you used your infinite power to save the world," Cynder responded to confirm his recollection.  
"There was a big flash of light. But just before it blinded us, I…I heard you say," then Spyro turned his head back to Cynder, after losing interest in their surroundings momentarily. Their eyes were locked in a deep gaze before their attention was shifted yet again by the sound of a grunt on the other side of the chamber, behind the center column.

"Oh, blimey," they heard a strange voice exclaim, "What was all that, eh?" What shocked the two dragons even more was the look of the most unusual creature they have ever seen rose up onto its hind legs. It turned to face them, which prompted it to widen its eyes in flustered confusion.

* * *

"What," was all the Doctor could exclaim, "What?" In front of him – well, behind the console in front of him – stood two young dragons that looked like the size of mid-adolescent yearlings.

"What the hell are you," came a female voice from the dark, violet one with crimson underbelly and membrane, six white horns, claws and lance-like tail, as well as geometric patterns on its head and forelegs.

"What," the Doctor is perplexed even more. _They can actually speak like people?_ It was one thing to know what a horse says from a neigh, but another to actually hear intelligible speech as if from a sentient creature.

"Where are we," the apparent female dragon asked with impatience and anger in her voice. Looking at her partner, the Doctor sees a purple dragon slightly more muscular and taller_ I'm guessing probably male_. He had a golden-yellow underbelly, claws, wing ligaments and edges of orange spikes running down its back, with the wing membrane also orange.

"But…" the Doctor stammered.

"Tell us where we are or we'll tear you to shreds," the female growled in rage as she began to crouch.

"Cynder, wait," the male exclaimed, turning his head away from the Doctor, "I think it's as clueless as we are." Suddenly the Doctor felt a terrible sense of _dèjá vú_.

"What?!"


	2. Destiny Knocking

Two

Destiny Knocking

All Spyro could do at the moment was stare in wonder at this most unusual creature he had ever encountered. He recognized certain characteristics the made it resemble those of an ape, including a rather high-pitched, squeaky voice. However, the nasal bridge and jaw structure were completely different, as well as the size of its hands and feet. And the only fur that the creature seemed to possess was that of a thick, copper brown on its head, extending downward to his neck and lower cheeks on the sides and back, circumventing long, apelike ears. Its eyes stared back at both him and Cynder in perplexed shock and wonderment, showing pupils also brown, as well as the white texture of its eyeballs. It also had brows that were divisive, for one remained diagonally straight, downward toward its nasal bridge, with the other raised and arched. Its small mouth moderately gaped open, revealing teeth that also resemble a square, apelike nature.

The manner of its clothing made Spyro even more dumbstruck, for it was far from any manner of dress he had ever seen. Instead of battle armor like the apes or moles, or a ranger cloak like the cheetahs, it covered its furless body in a sort of uniform, with both upper body and legwear matching, material that is a dark shade of blue, with thin, long stripes of scarlet running down its body. The upper half was united in the middle by a line of blue buttons, two of which were detached at the bottom, with a pocket on each side. Underneath that was a white tunic that had an open collar wrapped around the neck. From within the collar was a thin piece of cloth tied in a knot, stretching down to the creature's abdomen, tucked inside the blue uniform. The material of the cloth resembled that of silk, portraying scarlet plants on a black field. Its footwear, also, was unusual, having a white and red color scheme with a texture that seems to resemble leather, and strings interlaced and tied in a knot at the top, near the ankles.

It was at this moment of taking in every detail of this creature that he heard the menacing threat made by his companion to his right, enabling him back into focus of their situation.

"Cynder, wait!" He turns to place his right paw in front of her in a restraining manner. "I think it's just as clueless as we are."

"What," he heard the creature shout with a tone equal to Cynder's, having also an equally shocked expression to his own.

"How did you do that? We're in flight! That's physically imposs…" the creature then cut itself off, turning the dumbstruck expression on its face to that of rage and fury, "No. No, not again. No!" Suddenly it leapt into action, encircling the round table at the base of the column, aggressively pressing and turning various knobs and buttons with speed and precision.

"Again," Cynder asked, this time as perplexed as Spyro, but slightly returned to the fury she previously possessed, "You mean you pulled this kind of stunt before?" However, the response she got from the creature was not what neither she nor Spyro expected. As it continued to circle around the reef-like table, it babbled on in an angry fit, saying things like "What did you do?", "I don't understand," and in an outcry, "Why did you do this?!" It continued to rant like this, but not at Spyro and Cynder, rather at the ever-raising-and-lowering glass pillar whenever it looked up to face it, almost as if the creature were cursing at it, and the universe in general. But then it turned to face the young dragons once again, and began to ask in a sort of growl, "What are you? Some sort of bait for a trap? A way to lure me out into the open and force me to interfere with events again? Because that ship has long, since sailed. Oh yes!"

"What are you…"

"Talking about," Cynder completed Spyro's remark, both stated quizzically with concern.

The creature then flipped another switch that caused the entire chamber to violently shake and tilt. The dragons then clenched their claws into the steel floor, while the creature in front of them wrapped its arms and one leg around the table, all of them holding tightly as the room continued to tremble and wobble with consistent ferocity. A strange sound suddenly rises in volume throughout the chamber, emanating a sort of whine and groan followed by a periodic high-frequent pitch.

_This can't be good_, Spyro thought as he felt the chamber make a wild jolt. Suddenly the entire chamber stopped quaking, along with the unusual sound, with a loud _Thud!_

This caused both dragons to slam their bellies and maws against metallic floor, making them feel as if they were punched in the gut and jaw. With a grunt and moan from them both, they slowly rose and gradually recovered from that terrible experience. Looking around the chamber with the rotation of their heads, they found the apelike creature picking itself up from the floor as well, turning a rectangular piece of metal to face it, which seemed to shine a strange, blue light at the creature's face, which remained contorted in a fit of menace, but gradually reduced to another look of puzzlement.

"What was that," Cynder asked, "What did you do?" Without looking away from the illuminating metal, it answered in a low grumble, "Well, I simply retraced the coordinates from when and where you two popped into the time vortex and landed on board my Tardis."

Both she and Spyro share a perplexed look of frustration, before she turned back to the increasingly mysterious creature saying, "Assuming we know whatever all that meant, what's the problem?"

* * *

"Well, see for yourself," the Doctor responded as he turned the monitor towards the dragons, who looked at the screen in awe and uncertainty. Sensing the need to demonstrate what he was referring to, he pointed with his index finger at the center of the screen, which flashed a small, red light.

"This is us. We're here at this spot." He then motioned his finger to the numerous shapes that surround the red light, "And these are the various landmasses of your planet."  
"So, it's a map," surmised the purple male, "A map of our world."

"Exactly! But judging how these continents are separated without any water or any worldly mass whatsoever, and yet are supposed to be conjoined, this planet is scattered into pieces, like a giant puzzle that just exploded."

"W-what're you saying," the violet female stammered, "That our world is…is…"

"Destroyed," the male finished for her, but with as much disdain and grief.

"Well," the Doctor replied in a gulp, "not exactly. I mean, there's still an atmospheric presence that's keeping the planet inhabitable for carbon-based life-forms, as well as a stable gravity field that's holding the pieces in close proximity."

"I don't understand," both dragons spoke in unison.

"Neither do I," he murmured, partially to himself, "And that rarely happens – well, not too often – well, not as often – well, not as often 'til recently." This brought back memories the Doctor had, when Donna suddenly appeared into his T.A.R.D.I.S. in her wedding gown, due to being injected with huon particles, screaming at the top of her lungs for an explanation. Then the time when he stumbled upon his former, cricket self when their time capsules merged. Then there was the sudden disappearances of Earth and the twenty-six other planets, which were hiding in the Medusa Cascade one second before the whole universe. Then came this: two rationally intelligible dragons, barely in their adolescence, suddenly appear into the T.A.R.D.I.S. in a flash of light, and from a planet that is scattered into pieces, but remaining a life-sustainable world. And apparently, according to the dragons' bereaved reactions at least, this was recent.

"What I don't seem to understand is how all of this is…" he cut himself off as he suddenly fumbled into his suit's left pocket and pulled out his leather wallet, which contained his psychic paper. Sensing a message coming through, he opened the top flap of the fold, and watched as the blank piece of paper gradually contained a written message:

_"Could use a hand here. X"_

_A cry for help…with a kiss_, he mentally groaned at the very recollection of Donna's words at the Library. Knowing exactly who sent it, he let out a small whine as he turned back to the console, "Oh, no, not…not now. I-I'm busy."

Not only did he have this great mystery in his hands, but now he must juggle that with whatever this message was about.

"What?" "What's going on?" The two dragons asked spontaneously.

"Just received a distress call from someone," he answered bemoaningly. "Looks like we'll have to make a little detour." He then typed the specific logarithms to telepathically trace the message's origin, and turns to the screen once again.

"Oh, no thanks," the female snapped with impatience, "If we made it back, then we're getting out before you kidnap us again." After turning to find a set of doors at the far end of the chamber across a ramp, she hastily made her way towards it, cautiously followed by her purple companion.

"No need to get off just yet," the Doctor shouted back, "It seems the message is coming from this planet."

"Where," the male asked with anxiety, "If that's a distress call, then that means…"

"There's trouble," the female completes the remark with the same realization. "And we need to get there as fast as we can." She sprinted her way across the ramp, lowering her head to ram open the doors. What happened next, or what _did not _happen next, caught both dragons by surprise. The doors remained shut, and the female bounced off of it and sprawled onto the ramp. The Doctor turned to face them with a cringe, as she was dizzily shaking her head, and casually announced, "Sorry, failed to warn you in time. The doors only open if you pull from the inside."

"Thanks for nothing," she grunted back.  
"Besides, you wouldn't be able to reach them in time by flying," he continued as he sprawled around the console once more

"But this thing can," the male asked after he tended to his companion for any serious injuries.

"Oh yes," the Doctor shouted back with glee, feeling rejuvenated with a spirit of adventure yet again, practically forgetting how poorly his day began in the process. "I can pilot this beauty in close proximity to the source of the message. Allons-y!"

He swiped the lever with an energetic motion, causing the whining and groaning sound to emanate, as well as the glass pillar interior to rise and fall again. The chamber began to shake as well, but not as violently as before. Shortly after the sound and quakes turned to silence and stillness, the Doctor scrambled back to the observation screen to scan the area.

"Oh, now that's strange," he stated, returning to a quizzical tone.

"What now?" Both dragons seem to grow evermore impatient, for both were about to pull open the doors.

"All I can see out there is green and quaint, little valley. No sign of danger or anything." There was no way the Doctor got the coordinates wrong. In fact, their exact location was precisely where he intended.

"Maybe it was a ruse," he thought out loud, "an ambush. Or maybe the same force that shattered this planet into pieces is causing a temporal malfunction with the telepathic circuitry." He strode towards a coral pillar where a satchel was hanging, grabbed a stethoscope and drew out his sonic screwdriver from his jacket's inner pocket.

"Well, if it's an ambush, then we'll be ready for them," the female growled with impatience and aggression, "Right, Spyro?"

Before anyone could respond, however, something outside of the chamber started to pound on the doors. Four times, then the pounding stopped. This stopped the Doctor in his tracks, as sweat began to develop over his brow. His hearts felt as if they skipped a couple of beats, then rapidly pounded, gradually reaching toward his skull, then vibrating all throughout his body. He slowly turned to the door, when the pound at the door came a second time, four times as well. He noticed the perplexed expression of his new passengers turned to fear and uncertainty when they looked at his.

_I must be turning pale, or something_. One step at a time, he gradually made his way towards the doors. Then a third time, four pounds emanated from them, the same as the previous instances. The Doctor slowly walked past the two dragons, whose heads were up to his waist, and placed his hand on the left door handle. With a firm grip on it, he waited for a short while, listening with care and vigilance. Then, instantaneously, as soon as the pounding completed its fourth repetition, he swung the door open to see who was outside.

His face then turned from vigilant fear into great perplexity, for what he saw next, or _whom_ he saw, caught him off guard at first. Who stood before him, roughly a couple of meters away, was a female human roughly his height, wearing combat armor and camouflage, and holding a rifle in her hands. On the right side of her belt was a holster for a handgun, both weapons appearing to be highly advanced in caliber and design. The woman herself held a firm demeanor, but with a flirtatious smile and deep, hazel eyes, as well as having her golden-brown, curly hair held back in a painfully familiar bun. She cocked her rifle as she gleefully spoke.

"Hello, Sweetie."


	3. The Long, Awaited Return

Three

The Long, Awaited Return

"Professor River Song," he addressed her in salutations while raising his head, straightening his shoulders and nervously placing his hands in his pant pockets, "You're exactly how I remember you. Well, minus the gun, armor and camouflage, that is."

She chuckled with a smirk, sifting her eyes up and down, and examining the man's appearances with a tilt of the head.

"I wish I could say the same," she replied, but with a giggle she added, "Minus the gun, armor and camouflage, that is." The Doctor huffed a nervous smile, which seemed to conceal a great amount of angst and distress.

"Who's out there," grunted a female voice from inside, "What's going on?"

"Uh," the man stammered as he hopped his way outside, shouting back while still facing River, "Just an old friend paying a visit." This prompted her to raise her eyebrows in amusement.

"Well, just let us out," the voice from inside shouted impatiently, "And we'll leave you two alone!" He slowly became irritated, closing his eyes and shaking his head in response.

"Doctor," an entertained River asked, "Why don't you invite me in, the gentleman you are, and introduce me to your new friends?"

"No, no! Sorry," he exclaimed, slamming the door from behind and holding it in place, "Sorry, River. It's just that things are a bit complicated at the moment."

"More complicated than us? Sweetie, you've just peaked my interest." She continued to stare at him, watching with delight at how much more uncomfortable he became.

"Well," he mumbled with a gulp, "not exactly."

"Then let me meet them," she cut him off, "Unless, there's more than _one_ woman."

"No – River, it's not…not like that," he anxiously fumbled for the words as he began to wrestle with the door that is still toward his back.

"Oh, come on, Doctor," she huffed while rolling her eyes, but still with a smirk, "You're not exactly known for picking up other men without a woman present. And the majority of the people you pick up _are_ women. So, no surprises in that area." This time, she noticed the door beginning to shake violently behind him.

"River…" he grunted.

"Which I don't have any quarrels with." After all, he was best friends with her parents, and especially her mother. At least, he will be.

_Or was that long ago for this one._ She was not quite certain of where he was in his timeline. Having a different face than the one she was familiar with occasionally had its difficulties in determining his status in their relationship. She continued to amusingly watch his arm-wrestle with the door, which he appeared to be losing to.

"Look, as long as they're sisters, and-or they have interests in dashingly handsome men besides you, then I don't mind."

"Yeah, that's great to know, thanks for the compliment, and no, I have no sisters anymore" he growled the words rapidly as he fought with the ever-more violent door of his T.A.R.D.I.S. "But that's not the problem!"

"Oh," she then asked with slight concern, "Then what is?"

"There are two talking, sentient dragons just in their adolescence inside, and they think I kidnapped them."

"So, then let them out."

"Not that simple! See, they've never seen anyone like me before, and if that is the case, then they've never seen anyone like you before, in which case when they do see you, they'll think you're somebody like me, and since we know each other, they'll think that you and I are partners in this kidnapping scheme!"

The rapidity of his articulation could have easily been misunderstood by anyone listening to him. However, River is one of the few who not only could keep up with the Doctor, but could also be one step ahead of him.

"Doctor, wouldn't you confirm their suspicions by keeping them inside like that?"

He grunted as he paused to contemplate her question. Realizing that it might already be impossible to explain to them his intentions, he looked back to the door, then back at River.

"Okay," he hoarsely whispered, "so it's probably too late to reason with them now. I'm going to let them out, and as soon as they start to attack, we jump in from the side, quickly shut the doors, and make our escape."

"Nice plan, but that won't be necessary," she answered with an even wider smirk as she raised her wrist to the mouth before saying, "Fez."

"What?" Suddenly, from out of the tree-line and into the open field of the valley, creatures of various kinds leapt into action and surrounded the T.A.R.D.I.S. From moles and cheetahs to humans and dragons, they advanced behind River, who kept her stance facing the Doctor.

"What?" The befuddled reaction on his face nearly caught River off guard, for she would have thought a man with his reputation grew accustomed to seeing such a force at his, or any of his friends' command. Unless, that was not his reputation yet.

_So, early days, then._

"What?" He was so amazed by what stood before him that he released his grip, failing to notice the door opening from the inside. He felt a violent pull at his arm as he fell onto the ramp of the T.A.R.D.I.S's entrance. Before he could recover, twice he felt something on his back push him back down and jumped off of him.

"Out of the way," he heard a shout from behind. He quickly rolled over and sat upright to see the two dragons take to the sky. He noticed the awestruck reaction of the troops behind River, which soon became shouts of cheers and triumph for their apparent heroes. The Doctor looked back at River, who was as equally shocked as he, but for different reasons.

"You've found them," she gasped, "They told us they were lost forever, but you actually found them."

"Wait," the Doctor huffed in bewilderment as he rose back onto his feet and looked back up to observe the two dragons, who began to make a wide turn back. "You know them?"

"Only from what they told us," she answered in a low tone, as if she decided to take in this moment of wonder. The Doctor faced River again, still bewildered and dazed.

"They?"

"The inhabitants of this planet," she turned back to face him as well, "They said that they were the ones who saved their world from total destruction many years ago, but were never heard from since."

"Oh that was them," the Doctor remarked, recalling how the planet, though in pieces, was still held together by a gravity field and still contained an atmosphere, "But that's impossible. How could they? A feat of that magnitude would require an infinite amount of energy to…hang on!" He then grabbed River by the arm and drew her closer to him as he asked in a low manner, "What do you mean 'years'? How many?"

* * *

Cynder, as impatient and frustrated as she was of the situation, took her chance to escape from that apelike creature and its vessel that apparently can travel at impossible speeds. She still could not believe that she was at the center of the planet one moment, then this valley the next. But that did not matter to her at the moment, for she became so enthused by the wind rushing past her narrow snout and being caught in her thin, crimson membranes. She could no longer tolerate the seemingly cramped space of that large chamber. Due to all the obstructions that were in it, she was prevented from using her wings.

So the moment when she noticed the creature's grip on the door was reduced, she and Spyro took that opportunity to pull it down onto the floor and jumped off of it to gain momentum for flight. But after hearing the sudden cries and cheers from behind her, she turned around to make a pass over the source. It was then she noticed Spyro making the same maneuver.

_I guess he's wondering about the same thing._ She soon caught up with him, and followed his gaze downward, where she saw a large crowd at the heart of the valley.

"Spyro, look," she shouted with excitement, "There's Terrador and the other Guardians!"

"And I think I see Hunter," he responded, "Or at least his tribe. And the moles!" Then he looked to see what they were gathering around.

"But I don't understand."

"Why? What's wrong?" Cynder turned her head to look at him.

"What are they doing, circling around that small hut?" She returned her gaze to the ground and noticed the miniscule shed as well. But before she could think of an answer, she realized what was not present on the ground, or at least any longer.

"And what about that stranger's ship that brought us back?"

"I don't know. I'm not seeing anything that might look like one." They later circled around the crowd, gradually descending toward them.

"I guess it, and whoever it was talking to ran away," Cynder huffed with disdain, and passively looked past the crowd and into the recesses of her mind.

_Coward_.

"No, I don't think so. Look." Spyro faced her and tilted his head downward for her to notice what he discovered. There it stood, among the other people of Avalar, looking upward to face its airborne acquaintances along with everyone else. Standing next to it was one of several other creatures among the assembly of troops that closely resembled it. They all were strangely armed and wore unusually colored armor meant to blend into the environment. But what caught Cynder's attention most was the expression that their strange kidnapper possessed, which was unlike those of wonder and joy from everyone else, nor the look of fear that she hoped to see, but one of uncertainty and concern.

"I wonder why he's so upset."

"I don't know. But whatever it is, it can't be…"

"Spyro?" Cynder turned to see Spyro frantically shaking his head after noticing his abrupt interruption. Something appeared to be stuck on his face, causing him to try and shake it off, and to lose his concentration on his descent. He rapidly began to grow farther from her as he gained momentum towards the earth.

"Spyro!" Manipulating the wind with her elemental gifts, she quickly closed the distance, and moved closely beside him. As soon as she grabbed a hold onto both his forelegs, she folded her wings and turned to her side, causing them both to somersault onto the ground, and through the crowds. Their crash landing suddenly came to a close when they both felt something wooden hit their sides.

Opening her eyes and shaking her head, she turned to face whatever halted them. Realization struck her that it was the little shack that everyone gathered at the heart of the valley. And what she thought was odd about it, was the fact that it was completely colored dark blue, with white words in a black field near the top saying _Police Public Call Box_, and a small lantern on the roof. She also noticed a pair of windows framing thickly white glass in six sections. Then feeling something moving underneath her, she looked down to see Spyro, who still had his face and snout obstructed by something. But before she got a closer look at it, she hastily arose from above him, struggling to hold back a blush. Hoping that nobody in the crowd that grew around them noticed, she then slowly approached him and asked, "Spyro, are you okay?"

"Ah! What's on my face? Get this thing off." He rolled back onto his feet and violently shook his head even more.

"Whoa-oh-oh-oh! Hey-ey, easy-y the-ere, buddy-y-y-y! This _thing on your face_ doesn't want to die of motion sickness!" Whatever it was, it released its grip as soon as Spyro stopped shaking, which enabled him to finally open his eyes and see what was now hovering in front of him. He suddenly recognized the glittering presence of his dearest friend.

"Sparx," he exclaimed, "It's you! Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

"Me? Hurt," the yellow dragonfly replied with a light, but scratchy voice, "Pft. Please, it's going to take a lot more than an oversized, purple brother like you to…to…" He stammered as he bit his lip to fight an emotional breakdown after slipping the word _brother_.

"Oh, come here!" Sparx quickly wrapped his thin arms around Spyro's wide snout, closing his eyes as he let tears flowing down his tiny face.

"Are you kidding? I thought I'd never see you again!" This sudden change in emotion both shocked Spyro and puzzled Cynder.

"Hey, take it easy, Sparx," she spoke up, "It's not like stopping Malefor from destroying the world means never seeing you again. Besides, we just got back."

This prompted a flustered look from him, causing him to release his embrace with Spyro's muzzle, and hovered toward her with a pout, "Just got back?"

"Look, sister, I don't know if you've got a broken watch, or something," he kept approaching her to the point that she had to rear her neck and take a few steps back. "But ten years is not the same thing as 'just got back'!"

"Wait, what?" "Ten years?" Both Cynder and Spyro gaped at the now furious insect, who crossed his arms and turned his thin back towards them.

"Yeah, you heard me," he snapped back in response, "At least _somebody_ kept track of the time."

This prompted both dragons to turn their heads to face the unusual creature that was responsible for this, who joined the gathering that enveloped the trio. After noticing, now, how everyone else turned toward its direction, it nervously grinned at them saying, "Yeah, I sort of…well, forgot to, um…check the…date that the message was sent."

"Meaning," Spyro asked, unhappy of where this conversation was going.

"I sort of brought you ten years into the future."


	4. Destiny Answered

Four

Destiny Answered

_Blimey, that went well. In fact, much better than I expected_. The Doctor leaned against the side of the T.A.R.D.I.S. wearing his long, brown trench coat, which he went back inside to retrieve. The female dragon named Cynder was first prevented from attacking him by her male companion, Spyro, which had made him consider himself fortunate, since he had anticipated both to come at him enraged. Then he had begun to tell everyone about their entrance into the T.A.R.D.I.S., and explained what it was capable of.

"It's called the Tardis," he said, "T-A-R-D-I-S, which stands for 'Time and Relative Dimension in Space'. It can travel to anywhere and anywhen."

"And… it's bigger on the inside," he had muttered in response to Spyro and Cynder's reaction to his vessel after they followed him. They had stepped back outside and circumvented the wooden hut, examining it for any indication of an illusion, only to find none.

"And that was when I received a message from Professor Song, telling me to come here. I piloted the T.A.R.D.I.S. precisely to the place and time that she sent it, well, close enough. But I failed to check _when_ the message was sent."

"Okay," the dragonfly known as Sparx had perked up, "That means you can just take them back ten years to help us out, then everything will be fine, right?"

"I'm sorry, but it doesn't work like that."

"What do mean," a gaped Spyro finally asked, who had been beside Cynder, also calming her own nerves.

"The people of this world have an established history in which both of you went missing for ten years," the Doctor had clarified, "And what is recorded as history is a fact, a fixed point in time that cannot be altered. And since it's your _personal_ history, if you went back ten years while knowing that you've been missing during that period, you create a paradox."

"A what," both Sparx and Cynder had asked.

"A disorder, an inconsistency, a contradiction, something that falls out of order," the large yellow dragon named Volteer answered erratically.

"Yes, thank you, Volteer. It's wonderful to know that you've been paying close attention," the enormous, blue dragon, Cyril coldly remarked.

"Yeah, anyway," the Doctor continued, "You would cause this paradox in all of space and time that would basically rip a hole in the universe."

"But it wasn't our fault," Cynder snapped, "You just didn't drop us off the first moment you should have."

"I know. I know. And I'm very, very sorry," he responded with equal contempt, "But I'm afraid there's nothing that can be done about it now."

"Okay, okay," Sparx spoke up with detest, "I get it. You've got rules for paradoctors, and time traveling, and all. Is that why you fly around in a weird, sort-of police box: because you're some kind of time-cop, or something?" The Doctor chuckled at the proximity of the dragonfly's commentary concerning his own race. And after listening to his voice fairly longer, he could not help but notice how much it resembled that of Michael J. Fox.

But before he could laugh at the irony, he had decided to take his turn of asking the questions.

"So, what's been happening since then? I mean, it's not like you could really search for someone ten years straight without anything to go on." This caused a long pause from the entire crowd, waiting to see who would respond. This was the moment in which the Doctor now leaned against the T.A.R.D.I.S., and looked at everyone around him, who began to bring him, and his newly acquainted dragons up to speed.

"It was after the shattered pieces of Avalar returned to their proper place that we began our search," the green dragon, Terrador answered, "Which only lasted a year."

"I didn't want to give up. Really, I swear. But I was outvoted" Sparx cut in, "and outsized." Spyro could not help but smirk at his brother's attempt to brighten the mood.

"The final remnants of Malefor's ape armies began to terrorize the Realms in retaliation, which was soon followed by increasing raids and pillages by the pirates."

"Yeah, that too."

"So, peace and balance hasn't been restored," Spyro spoke in submission, "I failed you all again."

"No, Spyro. We both failed," Cynder corrected him, placing her head onto his shoulder to offer him consolation, "We're in this together, remember?"

"And I'm to be blamed too," the Doctor said as he looked at Cynder, "You were right, I should've been more aware of what was going on around me."

"No," Spyro again replied, "It was obvious that you had a lot on your mind. You couldn't have known what was happening."

"But I should have asked you the right questions _in order _to know, instead of ranting about…" It was then that the Doctor cut himself off, refusing to discuss about the reminder of his lost friend, among other matters. His sudden act of remorse alerted River's attention, causing her to wonder what recently happened to him.

"Alright, all of you," Cyril interrupted in frustration, "I dare say, this isn't a competition of whoever's most responsible for all these mishaps."

"Yes," Terrador's low, booming voice emanated, "Now is not the time to dwell on past regrets. We're here now. And as of this moment, time is of the essence. We must return to Warfang at once. There we can properly discuss the course of action we must take."

While he was speaking, a high-pitched, beep emanated from River's belt. After she pulled out the source of the sound, which was a familiar hand-held device with a small screen, she analyzed it. Upon deciphering what the signal meant, she announced with unease, "I'm afraid we have to hurry, then. We've got four enemy ships headed eastbound toward our location."

"Let's take them out," Cynder spoke aggressively, anxious for a bit of action for once.

"No," a cheetah named Hunter finally spoke in objection, "We don't have enough in numbers to take the offensive. Quickly! Into the forest. We must avoid detection." He led the dragons to his clan, which soon became their escort.

"Dave," River announced to the man who stood closest beside her, "take our troops and join that escort!"

"Dave?" The Doctor failed to recognize her fellow archeologist earlier, but then he started to scan the rest of her troops, who were actually her expedition team. Briefly studying her human comrades, he realized that only Dave was present that he could identify from the Library crew.

_This must be before he became Proper Dave. And why he seemed to recognize me then._

"The more protection we've got on those two dragons," River continued, ignoring his question, "The better our chances are of winning this."

The Doctor looked at her with puzzlement as everybody ran away from the clearing and into the forest. Dave promptly obeyed River's orders, leading the archeology team to sprint alongside Hunter's cheetahs. They ran swiftly to the forest with everyone else. They kept Spyro and Cynder safely in the middle, with Sparx flying alongside them.

"Come on," she said, taking the Doctor's hand and leading him towards the forest to join the others also.

"But the T.A.R.D.I.S…."

"It's too small to draw their attention, don't worry," she interrupted him, "She can look after herself. You should put more trust in her, you know."  
The Doctor had practically no time to retaliate with a response, for as soon as they reached the forest, they kept themselves low to avoid detection of the ominous sky ships that loomed overhead. To his astonishment, they looked precisely like eighteenth century Earth sea vessels, except they sailed across the atmospheric oceans above instead. Unsure of the sort of technology the pirates had on board, though by everyone's muteness, he surmised perhaps an audio enhancer, he chose to follow their example, and silently watched the ships slowly passing overhead. But what the Doctor did not expect, was the fourth and final vessel coming to a halt, just above the center of the valley.

_Oh, don't tell me they've got infrared and sonar technology._ He continued to observe with vigilance, still frozen still like the rest of his friends in hiding. However, it was what the ship did next that truly frightened him. Its hull opened up at the center, and lowered a massive grappling claw downward. Knowing what was about to happen, but afraid that any sudden movements might give away his own and everyone's position, he continued to watch with horror as the claw soon clenched at the roof of the T.A.R.D.I.S. It was then lifted back up into the heart of the ship, with his time capsule firmly in its grip. As soon as the ports closed, the ship sailed onward, catching up to its fleet directly ahead of it.

"No! No! No! No! No!" The Doctor sprinted back into the open pasture to watch helplessly as the pirate ships faded from his vision and sailed behind the mountains.

* * *

Spyro was not as shocked as the creature was, though he quickly understood that the pirates possessing such a powerful and magnificent machine could be catastrophic. He broke out of the protection detail surrounding him, Cynder and Sparx, and followed the stranger out into the field to see if he could help in any way. But he realized it was already too late the moment that blue hut went inside the ship's belly. He looked up to see the creature staring blankly past the mountains with frustration and disbelief.

"I can't believe it," he exclaimed in a squeak, "I just…I simply can – wha – how – I mean…What!?" He stood there, gaping his mouth and raising his hands to his head to grab at his hair. Shortly after, the rest of the battalion joined him and Spyro in the field.

"They're pirates! What would they want a blue box for!?" Spyro then noticed him turning to face everyone in attendance.

"We have to get her back," he announced with anxiety.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Hunter spoke in his typical low growl, "We have no way of catching up with them on foot, nor do we know their destination."

"We can't pursue them in the air either," Terrador added, "They will easily spot us, and we are too few in numbers."

"But we can't just let them get away," he proclaimed impatiently, "You don't understand what that would cause."

"Why? What would happen," Spyro heard Cynder speak from beside him, with Sparx suspended in midflight between them.

"The T.A.R.D.I.S. is the most powerful machine in existence," he answered sternly, pointing a finger in the general direction of where the pirates vanished from sight, "If they ever gain access to the controls, then the universe as we know it will die!"

"Wow! No offense, time-cop, but a bit overdramatic, don't you think," Sparx remarked at the stranger's hyperbolic behavior.

"But true, nevertheless."

"What did I just talk about trust, Sweetie," they heard the voice of the female human call out from behind.

"I know just as well as you do that she's impenetrable."

"Yes, but that won't stop them from trying, now will it?" Sensing the urgency in his tone caused Spyro to turn to Terrador, "What should we do?"

"We stick to the plan, and return to Warfang."

"No, we can't," the stranger protested, "Who knows what they might do to her? Who knows what they're capable of?"

"Actually, there is someone in Warfang that we do need you to meet," the woman softly replied, "Someone who can answer that question, and could use your help."

"Who?"

"The Professor," she said.

"Professor who?"

"Our leading expert in the most sophisticated, advanced and ingenious weapons that the pirates have come to possess," Volteer answered rapidly.

"A bit long for a name," the stranger quirked with a grunt.

"Yeah, I thought so too," said Sparx, "Though he really just goes by Professor." This seemed to spark a rejuvenating interest in the stranger as he said, "Well then, let's stop wasting time gawking about here, and go to this Warfang place. Come on!"

"Wait a second," Cynder exclaimed as they watched him strode past them and into the forest, "Since when were you in charge?"

"Yes, indeed," Cyril boldly spoke in reproof, "And may I ask who you think you are?" This made Spyro realize that they still have not been properly introduced to this strange creature of time. He turned from the dragons speaking, and looked back to him, who turned back to face them and pronounced, "I'm the Doctor. I am nine hundred, five years old. I'm a Timelord from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kastaberous. I am the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness, and I am here…" He then paused to take in a gulp of air before saying, "to die."

Sensing the anxiety of everyone's speechless reactions, Spyro looked around and noticed even the woman, who has always presented herself as full of confidence, was also concerned. Turning back to face this brooding man, he heard him say, "You've got a problem with that?"

"No," Cynder answered, expressing the uncertainty that all around her felt.

"Then in that case," the Doctor growled, "Allons-y!"


	5. Concerning Plans and Curiosity

Five

Concerning Plans and Curiosity

Stepping onto dead leaves and twigs, brushing through the thick brambles, crossing the shallow brooks, the Doctor briskly marched on without stop, or even a change of pace. He continued with a foreboding glare as he shifted his gaze in every direction, being as vigilant as possible. There was no way he could tell what inhabited this forest, let alone what might be lurking on this planet. However, he pressed onward, never slowing down to rest or even turning back to check on everyone else. He simply kept walking with consistency, never stopping. Beside him were the three dragons that called themselves the Guardians, who were also masters of their respective elements apparently. Directly following them was the escort of Hunter and his cheetahs alongside Professor Song's team, with Spyro and Cynder in the center, and Sparx hovering at their eye level. The moles marched on both sides of this party, as well as the rear, so as to cover their party's flanks. Professor Song, meanwhile, placed herself in between the two groups, keeping a short distance behind the Doctor, and watching his every move while keeping an eye on her scanner as well.

She found it very difficult to understand this much earlier Doctor. In a way he was as prolific as the Doctor she grew accustomed with, but more mature and less childlike, only slightly. By the looks of his converse, suit and trench coat, he also displayed similar… _acquired_ taste as his future personification. And he possessed a certain level of determination and dedication to accomplish his goals, while at the same time showing an aged sense of exhaustion in his eyes, full of pains and old aches, but not as much as before, that is, _after_. However, what struck her as odd was his cold, distant manner. She recalled how similarly he behaved when he was with her after he and Amy _will meet_ her at the _Byzantium_. How he was always drawing his attention away from her, so as not to have his emotions betray whatever he seemed to know particularly about her. But this time, he appeared to be drawing his attention away from everybody else, as if he wanted nothing to do with anyone ever again. And, from what he did not say, judging by his reaction to the dragons' entrance into the T.A.R.D.I.S., he was not in a particular mood for a new adventure. All from gathering this, River could tell that this younger Doctor will be much more difficult to manage than his future persona.

_That is, if he has a future_, River silently remarked. The fact that he even mentioned his death with such fearful certainty made her all the more uncomfortable about this excursion with him. Yes, she was always told that time can be rewritten, but she never expected such a thing from happening to the Doctor in this manner. She always knew about the fields of Trenzalore, through her days with Madame Kovarian and the Silence, and was aware of the numerous efforts they, and she, _will _make against his life to prevent it.

_Could this be another attempt_, she pondered, O_ne that they made sure even I was not aware of?_ The fact that this was a time before he even knew who her parents _will be_, let alone any clue as to who the Silence was, made River's theory seem more plausible. They could kill the Doctor, undoing any damage they would have caused with the cracks throughout the universe, as well as do away with kidnapping her altogether. She would never be the woman that she became, nor ever knowing the Doctor. The fact that he _will never recall_ any attempt against his life by the Silence upon meeting them later supported this theory even more. Not because he _will have forgotten_ the moment he looked away from them, but due to the supposition that if they succeed here, he will not even live to face them again. Although such thoughts mingled within, Professor River Song kept an air of vigilance and self-containment as she watched her surroundings as well as her scanner, and maintaining her pace along with the rest of her comrades, or more accurately, keeping up with _him_.

Throughout the entire afternoon, the Doctor and company encountered very few creatures in the dark wood, all of which were small and completely harmless. Instead of being comforted by this as much as most members of the group, especially Sparx, River knew that the Doctor felt even more suspicious by lack of lively activity during the day. Turning around to observe the dragons' escort, she surmised that Hunter doubted the forest's serenity as well, with his ever-shifting ears and wider-than-usual green irises always on alert. Then, after examining everyone else with a thorough glance, the pace that the Doctor has been trekking left most of them nearly to the point of exhaustion, due to the fact that they mainly consisted of short, though sturdy moles. River firmly called out, "Doctor, we need find a place to make camp," and looking up, she added, "It's near dusk, and we can't all travel by night. Many of the troops are growing tired."

Upon hearing this, the Doctor finally reduced his stride to a slight shuffle, looking up to observe the sky also, then turning to examine the rest of the company himself. He then faced Terrador and asked, "How much farther to Warfang?"

"I'd say almost a two days' ride as the dragon flies from here. But on foot, at least ten."

"Ten days," Sparx spoke up in complaint, "I don't think my wings would last that long. No, seriously, I think they're gonna to fall off. I feel like one's gotten loose here."

"That is only if we maintain this pace," Terrador continued, "Any slower might make the trip three to five days longer."

"Oh, well that's comforting," was Sparx's response as he crossed his arms in an exhaustive pout.

"How far off's the nearest settlement," the Doctor inquired, still trudging along in a backward fashion.

"My clan's village is not as far from here," Hunter replied, "At least two days on foot."

"And how many moles are here in total?"

"Eighteen of us, sir," exclaimed their commanding officer, "All present and accounted for."

"Doctor, what do you have in mind," River asked. But she did not need to hear the answer after he directed his next question to the Guardian dragons, "How many moles each of you can carry? Five, six?"

"Oh, I would say that is an adequate estimation considering their size and weight as well as taking into account our own dimensions and prowess," Volteer answered, "Why are you making such queries anyway, Doctor…um, eh…Whoever-you-are?"

"I believe, Volteer, this enigmatic doctor is contemplating that we should divide our forces," Cyril answered, "with us dragons transporting the moles to Warfang, while he and the others make the perilous journey to Hunter's village, where we can rendezvous with them after delivering the moles to safety."

"But is that such a good idea," Cynder spoke up from within the escort, "I mean, splitting us up like that might leave us more vulnerable from an ambush."

"She's right, Doctor," River added, "There's no telling what lies ahead of us."

"Nah, we'll be fine," he answered with a shrug, "We'll certainly be able to take care of ourselves for a few days, what with a pack of armed cheetahs and the two mighty dragons they're escorting," then shifting his gaze to River he muttered, "Also a human archeological team with highly advanced weapons."

They both stared at each other for a brief, silent moment, without displaying any emotions that might betray either his sentiments of suspicion and intrigue, or her own intentions. The Doctor then suddenly drew away from their contest and added, "Besides, the sooner we get to Warfang, the sooner I can meet with this Professor. And the sooner I can get answers of how to retrieve my T.A.R.D.I.S."

After he turned around to walk forwards again, River could not help but smirk at his attempt to attain answers from her, as was his custom ever since he first asked her who she is at Demon's Run, for her that is.

_I suppose some things never change_.

* * *

Upon agreeing that the dragons depart with the moles at dawn, the group pitched camp in an adequate clearing near a wide stream. The Doctor simply stood at the waterline, with his back towards the camp and his hands in his pant pockets, facing the forest beyond as it grew darker with each passing moment after sundown. In order to watch for any activity from within the dark wood, he reasoned that it would be best if he kept his vision away from the bright campfire. He would shift his eyes and turn his head around the edge of the clearing in three-second intervals, keeping a sharp watch as everyone was making the final preparations for their camp. The species to first complete their tasks and take the first watch with him were the cheetahs, standing, crouching or sitting on or near a log or boulder at the edge of camp. He became aware of their leader, Hunter, approaching him from behind his right shoulder as he continued with his probing the darkened forest.

"We must follow this stream against the current," he told the Doctor, "It will lead us straight to the village."

"Right, yeah. Very nice," he replied with a long inhale from his nostrils as he kept watch with a firm vigilance, "Tell me something, Hunter, are the woods usually this quiet all day and night."

_Why would his parents give him a name like that,_ he pondered to himself, _It's not like hunting means everything for a cheetah_.

"Since the pirates began their raids across the world," Hunter answered "most wildlife have grown accustomed to hide in burrows or tree hollows whenever they sense a large force approaching."

"And that was what? Nine years ago?"

"Seven. After Spyro and Cynder restored the realms of Avalar from the destructive chaos caused by Malefor, his remaining ape forces made a last effort by terrorizing wherever they could. It took us two years to finally halt their movements, along with the other clans they influenced along the way."

"And before that was the year you spent searching for them? The two dragons."

"Correct."

"And when did Professor Song and her team show up?"

"More than two years ago, shortly after the pirates attained more powerful weapons."

_Well that can't be just a coincidence_.

"Yeah, right," the Doctor casually continued from his train of thought, "And I noticed that they shared with you their own." He tilted his head to Hunter's hip, where a rifle was hanging from a shoulder strap.

"They taught the moles how to assemble one. Told them what material they were made of, and how to forge the small projectiles that are emitted from within. They then instructed us on how to wield them." Then with a slight shift of balance he added, "They're difficult to handle, and very loud. So we use them only as a last resort."

"Which has happened more often than you would like, hasn't it?"

"This was so, unfortunately. But it has also helped us grow much more accustomed to them."

Feeling uncomfortable about where this conversation was going, the Doctor decided to ask a different question, "How did this… Malefor bloke destroy the world?"

"He drew out with his infinite power the Destroyer. A mighty beast from the heart of a volcano. By encircling all the realms in a ring of fire that it left with each passing step, it began the process of purging this world by shattering it to pieces."

"And Spyro and Cynder? How did they stop it?"

"They couldn't. It was so great in size that it was able to complete its circle within a few hours."

"Blimey, so that must've been too big for them, or any dragon to handle."

"Though that didn't stop them and the Guardians from trying, the only way to really stop the purge was to destroy the source of its power."

"They had to face Malefor himself. And alone?"

"Not entirely. You see, the Fire Guardian, Ignitus, helped them cross through the Ring of Fire in order for them to reach the Dark Master, sacrificing his own life in the process. And when Spyro and Cynder did face him, they relied on one another for strength."

"So, guessing that everything is in one piece means that they succeeded. But how? How were they able to defeat Malefor if he was so powerful?"

"As was the Dark Master, Spyro and Cynder are purple dragons. While certain dragons are masters of their respective elements, fire, ice, earth and electricity, each identified by the color of their scales, purple dragons can master every element, and possess infinite power and energy. That's how they were able to defeat him."

_And how they ensured the shattered world was still intact, with an atmosphere and everything. Though that's a bit anticlimactic, I think. I would've expected a more complex explanation. But how did they get into the time vortex, let alone the T.A.R.D.I.S., even with that kind of power?_

"And these purple dragons, are there many of them—well, that is, as many of them as the next ordinary dragon?"

"Actually, no," Hunter continued answering the Doctor's questions with firmness and patience, understanding how unusual this world must be to him, as his own breed was unusual to Hunter.

"One purple dragon egg is laid every ten generations. After the brood of eggs is gathered at the Dragon Temple to be safely guarded, they would hatch during the Year of the Dragon, which occurs every twelve years."

"So even after the egg comes along, the parents still had to wait up to twelve years for it to hatch." _Talk about terrible social services._

"But what about the rest of them? How come only those two hatched and not the others?"

"I'm afraid that's a story for another time, Doctor," Hunter replied gloomily, "But what does matter at the present, is that they've returned, and that they can aid us now in restoring order throughout the realms of Avalar."

"Yeah, but they just got back. I mean, that is, for you, it's been ten years. But for them, they just returned after fighting a dragon that was exponentially bigger and far more powerful than them. They might have experienced a little trauma, or, you know, shock in the process. They might want to spend some time to recover once they reach Warfang, you know."

"You are wise to bring up such matters concerning their wellbeing, Doctor. But I'm afraid there is little to no time for anyone to recover, but to prepare for what happens next. Such was indicated by your urgency to reacquire your vessel earlier today if I recall."

The Doctor could not argue with that voice of reasoning, given that was precisely how he handled the situation all day. Ever since Spyro and Cynder dropped right into his lap in a flash of light, directly after he made the worst mistake of his life, all he could do was press on. It seemed as though he could never catch a break. As if the entire universe were completely against him, or he against the universe, or both.

"Yeah, I suppose you got me there, Hunter," he answered in kind, "But I think by the time we reach the city, or maybe even your village, they should take the time to rest." After a brief nod in response, Hunter asked, "And you, Doctor? Won't you rest?"

"No, not me. I've got work to do the moment I step inside Warfang. Which, you know, in retrospect, doesn't sound like a safe haven, let alone a place to recuperate. In fact, it's two words that imply death and destruction that are conjoined together. Sounds more like you're inviting further conflict than anything else."

It was an understatement that the Purple Savior and the former Terror of the Skies needed to recover from their encounter with Malefor. They never realized how exhausted they truly were. So much so, that while Hunter and the Doctor were conversing during their watch, and everyone else was preparing a meal on the fire before they turned in, Spyro and Cynder lied down on the grass amongst the tents, facing opposite from each other, and fell asleep almost instantly. It was understated also that they might have suffered any sort of trauma.


	6. The Darkness Within

Six

The Darkness Within

Spyro flew straight towards the Dark Master's keep in the sky, landing squarely on all fours directly in front of the main entrance. He stared at it with such doubt and anxiety as he took a deep breath to steady himself.

_"Are you ready_," he asked aloud, "_No, why would I be? I'm alone, facing the most dangerous creature in the world."_ Inhaling deeply, he set his stance, preparing himself for whatever horrors that might be lurking inside.

"_Okay. Let's do this!"_ Spyro shot a quick burst of shock waves against the gate with his earth element, causing it to shatter to pieces, and leapt into action. Upon examining his surroundings, the main chamber was massive, dark, and completely empty, and the stone floor cold against his paws. Except it did not appear like Malefor's fortress at all, but instead, possessed the wide dome of the Doctor's strange hut, except it emanated an eerie, blue glow throughout. However, there were no coral columns encircling the chamber, and what stood at the center was not the glass pillar on a reef-like table, but a massive hourglass from which the blue glow originated. Spryo resisted the urge to remark how strangely familiar it was to him, and brushed it aside, deciding to remain focused on his objective as he slowly advanced to the center of the room with extreme caution, suspecting a trap at every corner, even from behind.

"Welcome," a low, menacing voice echoed throughout the room, "I have been expecting you, Spyro."

_"It's over, Malefor,"_ he responded as he slowly moved across the room, adjusting to a crouched position and searching for the source of the voice, _"I'm here to stop you. You'll never win."_

"You certainly know how to speak calmly under such frightful circumstances, and display a strong and courageous persona. But I see beyond that fearless mask. You are afraid, and rightly so. You are far too weak to face me, and you will die most painfully. Unless, of course, you fully accept your destiny as I have."

_"No,"_ Spyro shouted back, "_I am nothing like you! I will never become like you! I will never destroy Avalar!"_

"On the contrary," it replied, "you already have. You yourself are slowly becoming one with me as we speak. And your failure to restore peace and balance should be a clear reminder of that, regardless of what you believe."

_"What? No, that's not true! I am not you, Malefor! Nor will I ever be!"_

"You fool," the voice said in a dark cackle, "You still think I'm the Dark Master? Have you already forgotten the Well of Souls? The Ring of Fire? Ignitus?"

_"Wha—what are you talking about?"_

"By falling into that dark energy from the Lunar Alignment, by embracing your anger upon losing your mentor and friend, you also embraced your destiny. _Our Destiny."_ It was during those final words that Spyro heard a shift in the Dark Master's voice, from that of Malefor, to that of someone completely different, yet all too familiar. But more importantly, the voice suddenly sounded as if it were directly beside him. Turning towards the source of the voice, Spyro saw on his right flank the darkened image of himself, with its eyes glowing pure white, piercing the retina of his own.

Suddenly, that light was not the only thing that pierced him, for the dark dragon came at him with ferocious speed, taking its maw into Spyro's neck and biting deeply through his scales. He strived to break free of his opponent's grip, driving his claws into its hide, and using the spade of his tail against its head. But his retaliation did not seem to have any effect on it. In fact, the violent counter attack seemed to have made it stronger, and Spyro weaker.

"_And you can never stop it._"

Just then, Spyro noticed two other figures on the other side of the chamber. It was too dark, and he became too weak to even identify them at first. After a struggle to even retain focus through his blurred vision, he noticed Cynder lying vulnerable to her own dark counterpart, with its jaws at her throat as well. She was lying there, just as helpless as he was, and turned to face him also. Both wanting to reach out and help the other, but too weak to even fight, they share a brief moment of eye contact before both their visions faded into darkness.

"Spyro!" "Cynder!" Both shouted with dismay as they opened their eyes, only to find that they were lying where they slept, facing each other as they did during their slumber. Seeing that it was now daybreak, with the golden sunrise radiating the sky above with violets, purples, reds and oranges, they both looked back towards the other, attempting to calm themselves.

"A-are you okay," Spyro asked, still gasping for breath.

"No," Cynder answered in kind, "You?"

"No."

"Did… did we just have…?"

"I… I think so, yeah." After examining their surroundings, they noticed that everyone seemed to have been disturbed by their sudden outbursts. They could hear the snores and deep breaths from inside the tents ending abruptly, except those of Sparx, who was lying nearby on a fallen leaf, using it as a sleeping mat. It seemed that those who kept watch were also aware of the disturbance coming from within the camp, for they sharply arrived to examine what might have happened. It was Hunter who quickly arrived to their side first, with the Doctor and Professor Song closely behind.

"Are you both alright," he asked firmly, but with concern. It was after the two share a brief glance towards each other that they warily answered in the affirmative. Spryo then inquired if the Guardians had already departed from the camp, hoping inwardly that it was not the case. He wished to speak with them concerning his shared nightmare with Cynder, knowing very well that it might have been a vision, similar to those that he had prior to the Eternal Night. But this one troubled him far more than all the others previous combined. After listening quietly to Hunter's reply in the negative, both dragons slowly picked themselves up, looking at each other with eyes full of fear and uncertainty, but silently agreed between themselves to keep this matter undisclosed, believing it best to inform the Guardians personally when they returned. This, however, did not escape the Doctor's detection, nor Professor Song's, as they watched the young dragons calmly make to their way to the stream for a drink.

Then with a snort, Sparx arose gradually from the comfort of his sleeping leaf, stretching his thin arms with a yawn. Then noticing how everyone had gathered around where Spyro and Cynder formerly stood, he asked, "What? Was I talking in my sleep again?"

* * *

Briskly following the river from a small distance, the traveling party consisting of twelve cheetahs, eight humans, two dragons and a dragonfly pressed onward throughout the majority of the day, most of which was in silence, with the Doctor taking the lead once again. Only, instead of having everyone trailing behind, Hunter and Professor Song made long strides on either side of him, matching his pace with each step, knowing fully well that the escorts of each respective species behind them was capable of doing likewise.

While Cynder, Spyro and Sparx took the center of the party, the humans and cheetahs strategically placed themselves around them, guarding each flank with extreme caution. She stared blankly ahead of her, collecting all her thoughts and sentiments with deep contemplation as she maintained her light trot alongside her closest friends.

_Or, as far as Sparx's concerned, as close as possible_. She recalled how much Sparx continually despised and misjudged her, recalling how many times she attempted to kill both him and Spyro in the past. In retrospect, she felt his distrust for her was partially justified, considering every time she brought forth pain and suffering onto others. Yet despite all of that, Sparx eventually grew to trust her, even respect her, by the time he and Spyro went their separate ways at the Ring of Fire. So much so that he asked her to look after his big, purple brother.

_I guess I sort of let him down in that respect_. Cynder also remembered how easily she was swayed to Malefor's side, cringing inwardly with each blow she brought down against Spyro, the young dragon that never gave up on her, even when others to do otherwise, especially Sparx. The fact that he gave his life, his entire being, time and time again to save her from the Dark Master, and she still betrayed him, consumed within her most deeply. In fact, her guilt should not have surprised her when she experienced that painful nightmare the previous night.

Seeing the darkened image of herself, and feeling its clenched jaws at her throat was only the beginning of that frightful encounter in the eerie chamber inside Malefor's lair. She heard the voice of her pitch-black doppelganger echoing inside her mind, and causing such horrendous agony both physically and mentally, saying, "_You will never escape my grasp!"_

But the worst moment for her was the one that directly followed, when she turned to catch a glimpse of Spyro suffering the same fate as her own. This enhanced her guilt even more, for although she did not intend it, she was drawn towards the Well of Souls, causing her to wander off, her capture by the pirates, and then by the apes, which prompted Spyro to attempt a rescue. The darkness inside her never fully departed from her, which was why she was unconsciously drawn away from Spyro and the Guardians and to the Mountain of Malefor. The Dark Master himself used that darkness to draw Spyro into a trap in which he would be infused with that same darkness as her, and set Malefor free. Again, despite her efforts to avoid any infliction of pain and sorrow onto Spyro, she indirectly brought it to him. And again, though it was not her intention, she betrayed him nevertheless.

_I guess I let Sparx down even before I promised_. She could not help but recount the events that followed his ruthless murder of the Ape King, how the look of innocence and purity of heart left his eyes after she pushed him out of the dark energy from the lunar alignment. How he shared with her that same look of guilt and shame after encountering the darkness within, and how his efforts to save the world and Cynder assisted in Malefor's return, nearly bringing forth Avalar's destruction. And the fact that Spyro even shared in that nightmare with her deeply troubled her exponentially more.

"…Cynder?"

The voice of someone beside her disrupted her train of thought, causing to jump up slightly out of impulse. She turned her head to face Spyro's, whose expression was that of empathetic concern.

"Cynder, you're alright?" They both trot in the same brisk pace as they have been the entire morning. She noticed how Spryo spoke with each pant and intake of air as they brushed through the woods. In a like fashion, Cynder replied, "Guess you know the answer to that as I do."

Turning his head forward with a comprehensive nod, Spyro said, "Yeah, me too." This exchange, however, failed to escape the dragonfly's attention, as he hovered more closely to their eye level.

"What are you guys talking about? It's almost like I'm hearing half a conversation." After both share a slight shift of eye contact between themselves and continued to trudge on, Sparx could not help but feel ignored.

"Hey, come on, you two! Don't leave me in the dark like that. What's going on?"

"It's nothing, Sparx," Cynder answered, "We're fine."

"Yeah, right," Sparx crossed his arms in frustration while he still maintained his speed with everyone else, "It doesn't look like it's nothing, and you both don't look fine."

"Sparx," Spyro responded, "it's okay. I don't think it's something you can't help us with. Just don't worry about it, alright?"

"Pff! Me? Worried? Who said I was worried? And who says that it's nothing I can't handle? Besides, I'm your brother, your pal, your best buddy. Just because I'm smaller and you have weight issues, doesn't mean I can't deal with…whatever's the problem. In fact, now that I'm ten years older since we last saw each other, and you literally haven't aged a day…yet, that makes me your big brother now."

Cynder, however, lost any attention she had in listening to Sparx's ramblings, as she gradually shifted her focus to the sounds of the forest around her. She began to shift her eyes and turn her head to observe her surroundings. She also had a slight, chilling sensation running down her spine, from her collar to the spade of her tail. As she listened even more intently, she began to recede the speed of her trot, slowly losing distance from Spyro and Sparx, and becoming closer to those taking the rear of the escort. The sounds, with each passing duration, seem to be getting closer to the group.

"Cynder," Spyro spoke up after noticing this, "What is it?"

"Shh," she exclaimed, "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what," Sparx asked, "Is this some kind of prank to scare me or something?"

"Both of you, quiet," she whispered hoarsely as she began to pick up speed and catch up with everyone else up front.

"Hey, you guys…"

"Oh yes, we do," the Doctor answered in a low voice, shifting his gaze as he continued with the same stride as before, "The forest seems to be waking up."

"Multiple life forms are beginning to pop up nearby," Professor Song spoke after viewing her device.

"But that can't be," Hunter responded, "The creatures of this forest have always scattered whenever any warriors are present. Unless…"

"Exactly," said the Doctor, "We're not alone out here."

"Whoa, whoa! Wait a sec," Sparx said uneasily, "You saying we're being followed?"

"Oh no, we're not being pursued," he replied in a low growl, "We're being intercepted. This is an ambush."

"What should we do," Cynder and Professor Song asked at once. Noticing that the Doctor has not reduced or increased his speed, but began to appear more anxious, Cynder heard him say, "We're going to do something that they wouldn't expect us to do before being ensnared."

"And what's that," Spyro warily asked.

"Ruuuuun!"


	7. Of Grublins and Gems

Seven

Of Grublins and Gems

The livid sounds of ferocious beasts from the rear and the left grew stronger in volume with each passing moment. The moderately warm air, as well as the occasional leaf branch and pine needles brushed over him. The soles of his feet beat the earth, roots and fallen leaves below as he grew evermore diligent and desperate in his efforts to race through the forestry. On either side of him were Hunter, Professor Song and the two young dragons, also in a heavy sprint to evade capture or death from their unseen pursuers. Tailing directly behind his flapping trench coat were the rest of the fellowship of cheetahs and humans, keeping a close distance between one another so as to avoid being picked off individually and watch each other's back.

Despite their efforts of throwing their ambushers off guard by their sudden energy to sprint without hesitation, the Doctor knew very well that whoever, or whatever they were, gradually began to close the distance between both parties. He needed to develop a new course of action quickly before the situation became any worse.

_Alright, Doctor, think! Got to come up with something fast._ Knowing that any attempt to cross the river that flowed to their right would reduce their efforts dramatically, as well as separating their forces and go in different directions would reduce chances of survival for both groups. Not to mention the fact that they are likely to be outnumbered already, whatever was chasing them would have no trouble of dividing their troops also. And there was no indication that anything in this forest might provide excellent cover to avoid detection, so he was beginning to run out of options.

_Okay, check my surroundings. A forest without hiding places. River on the right. Trouble to the left. What am I missing? _Suddenly he heard an alert bleeping to his left, where Professor Song ran beside him. She picked up her scanner to quickly offer a glance at its readings while she maintained her sprint with the rest of the band.

"Doctor," she panted, "We've got a ridge coming up, directly ahead of us."

"Yeah, so," Cynder vented with increasing frustration before the Doctor could respond.

"The moment we reach it, we'll be trapped," Hunter replied.

_Of course! That's why they've been keeping us up against the water front._

"I'm assuming you've got another plan, Doctor."

"Yeah, Doctor Sweetie, anymore bright ideas," Sparx added with sarcasm.

"Sure, same as last time," the Doctor answered, "Do what they don't expect."

"Running straight towards them," River stated. Nobody was reducing their efforts to run as hard as they could, but the Doctor knew that it is only a matter of time before everyone begins to deteriorate in terms of energy.

"How come this guy only comes up with the crazy ideas," complained the Irregular Dragonfly.

"Look, we don't have much time," the Doctor snapped back as he caught a glimpse of the ridge up ahead. He reached for his sonic screwdriver and added, "And we've only got one shot at this. Ready?"

"Yes," came the unanimous shout from everyone near him.

"Go!" Just as they made it to the clearing, straight in front of the red, rocky ridge, the entire company of cheetahs, humans and dragons took a sharp turn to the left, right behind the leading Timelord, who raised his screwdriver and extended its beaming head as far as he could. Suddenly, coming out into the open also were numerous creatures of a hideous breed, with disproportioned and misshapen bodies of dark green and brown material, rushing through the forest and exploding out of the earth, only ten meters away.

Activating his screwdriver, the Doctor directs a high-sonic frequency squarely against the advancing horde. Strong waves of sound shook the very ground beneath their feet, and violently assaulted their ears, wherever they were. They began to collapse with their hands clasping their own heads with agony, while their comrades that followed continued with their pursuit, some of which stumbled over the fallen. Then, without warning, the simultaneous blasts of rifles and twangs of bows were made from behind the Doctor, causing many more of the creatures to fall and trip over the others that attempted to persevere with the ambush. All of this provided the group with the precise opening they needed to make their escape.

The excitement caused by these sudden changes of events gave everyone a great surge of adrenaline, prompting them to dash onwards for as long as possible as they made for the corner of the ridge. However, that still did not guarantee any rejuvenation of energy that could make them run at this speed all day, let alone sprint any faster. For not only has much of their energy already been spent on running well before they made that sudden turn, but also the stride-like pace they have maintained today and yesterday took their toll. After taking the sharp right turn past the ridge, the group made a sudden halt fifteen meters after the fact, and made their stand. It was time to take their turn in possessing the element of surprise altogether, and take advantage of the sudden confusion that they caused.

"Dave, everyone! Get into position for a counter attack. Now!"

"Archers, ready your bows," Hunter shouted, having his fellow cheetahs follow River's lead. Just as more of the creatures made the turn at the ridge's corner, twelve cheetahs and eight humans were standing or kneeling in position, with weapons raised and aimed to fire upon command.

The moment the order was given by both River and Hunter, bullets and arrows flew at incalculable speeds, spontaneously tearing down multiple enemies within a fraction of a second. By the time the humans emptied their first magazine of thirty-five rounds, the cheetahs released four to five arrows each. While the humans dropped their rifles to hang on their sides and drew out their pistols, the cheetahs continued to project their volley upon the advancing foes. As this was happening, the two dragons, who stood beside the Doctor and Sparx during this violent exchange, suddenly took flight. But instead of diving straight into the creatures, and consequently the line of fire, Spyro and Cynder simply flew overhead and delivered their own attacks from the sky. As the Purple Savior sent forth a blasting breath of ice and frost, the great Terror of the Skies hurled down a spray of lime-green venom in large quantities. After that, the humans began to reload their weapons, and the cheetahs had just spent all their arrows, but more of the deformed creatures pressed on in their attack.

The young dragons then swooped down from behind with their heads lowered, baring their horns. They impaled, cut, grazed and knocked down as many as they could before ramming past those that were taking the lead, and ascended upwards again. As soon as they did so, the humans, with their reloaded rifles, and cheetahs, raising their own, took that clearance to immobilize the remaining stragglers that survived the dragons' aerial assaults. Those that were advancing from the rear noticed the onslaught that was made on their comrades, and scurried back into the forest in retreat. However, only a few of them survived the swift and turbulent cyclone of fire made by the efforts of both dragons, who then returned and made their landing beside everyone else, joining in the team's moment of catching their breath and recovering from today's tribulations. That is, of course, everyone else except the Doctor.

* * *

After checking to be sure that everyone is present and accounted for, as well as inquiring of any lethal injuries from her squad, Professor River Song looked back to view the carnage, only to find the Doctor already there, having sprinted back to them, and analyzing with his sonic screwdriver. The high-pitched whirring sound it emanated drew everybody's attention, and they watched with equal puzzlement at the perplexity of his actions. Crouching over the nearest creature among the several dozen that were sprawled and contorted on the ground, he viewed his instrument with intrigue, saying, "These creatures are unnatural, completely artificial. Almost as if they were genetically engineered from second-hand, organic matter."

"Yeah, sure. That's good to know," said Sparx with feigned comprehension, "Translation?"

"They don't exist by nature," the Doctor replied, "They were made by somebody else, another creature."

"The Grublins were created by Malefor himself," Hunter spoke up, "After the Lunar Alignment, when he returned, he transformed his ape army into skeletons as payment for their false loyalty to him, forever doomed to darkness until he was vanquished."

"Grublins, right. So that's what they're called," the Doctor muttered to himself. "But I thought you still had to fight off the last remnants of his apes."

"Those were the same apes that Malefor maimed and cursed," the cheetah answered, "Once Spyro and Cynder defeated him, they were restored. But without anyone to lead them, they became ruthless and brutal, bringing forth chaos and destruction wherever they could."

"So you had no choice but to imprison or destroy them," he lowly grumbled, loathing the situation on this planet even more.

"And these things," the Timelord gestured with his head back to the lifeless Grublin, "They still live, even after Malefor's demise?"

"No," River responded this time, "We've never encountered them 'til now."

"Nor have we dealt with them since the death of Malefor," Hunter added, "Only some dark, powerful entity can enable them to live."

"Then something very evil is on this planet," the Doctor concluded, "And has just arrived to join in the fun." River noted the more brooding he had become while completing that statement, as well as how tense and constricted his entire being became afterward. But then she turned to face everyone else, and noticed, distinctly from the individual reactions, the young dragons looked equally disheartened and concerned. Sparx seemed also to become aware of the demeanor that was made by his brother and friend, looking as much baffled and excluded as River. Whatever it was that they were keeping to themselves, and possibly with one another has apparently made itself a part of this entire situation, which seemed to have worsened more than ever before.

_I just hope it can't get any worse than this_. She decided that it would be best not to delve into it with any enquiries until a more opportune time, when they reached the village, if not after, in Warfang, when confined to safety, and not concerned with anything that might be lurking nearby. She turned back to face the Doctor, offered some consolation after a deep sigh, saying, "Doctor, whatever it is that you're dealing with right now, know that you don't have to go through it alone."

It was after she said this that he took a long and deep inhale through his nostrils, shifting his eyes and taking in his surroundings. Then, as he began to stride past the fellowship of cheetahs, humans, dragons and dragonfly, he said sharply, "Right, then. Now let's get a move on, shall we?"

"Whoa, hey! Just how crazy are you, Doc," Sparx interjected, "Expecting us to keep marching on, just like that, like we haven't been through enough today?"

"Oh, I don't know," the Timelord retorted as he faced the dragonfly in close proximity and equal eye level, "You don't look at all that shaken up to me. Don't see what you've got to complain about."

"I—Excuse me? You call flying around all day at a quick pace, then flying even faster to avoid being killed by evil… dead… Grublins coming back from the grave nothing to complain about?"

"He's right, Doctor," River spoke up, "After today's ordeals, we're all becoming exhausted, and need to find a place to make camp." The afternoon has well passed by now, and the early evening sun had begun its descent towards the horizon.

"Besides," she added, "we've already covered a lot of ground today, what with all that running."

"Yes, indeed," Hunter joined in, "We should be able to reach the village by tomorrow afternoon as intended."

After taking a brief pause of consideration, the Doctor found no reason to refuse their voice of reasoning, that is, except his personal desire to reach Warfang sooner than he would like. He nodded his head with a sigh through the nose, deciding it best to concede to their wishes for the time being.

"Okay. Just where exactly do you want to pitch your tents?" He knew that after this attack, they would need to find a defensible position in the event that another might occur. The answer that he received, however, was nothing that anybody anticipated. Spyro and Cynder had suddenly trodden past everybody, including the Doctor, taking the lead as Spyro said, "We might have an idea."

* * *

They felt this sudden surge of energy deep within the recesses of their wearied souls, as if they were drawn by some force nearby. First they checked their bearings through their heightened senses, then trotted along the base of the ridge, looking for a way to reach the top without scaling it.

"Oh, great. So we're on the move again, just so we can find a good place to rest," Sparx complained, "All because we've got dragons here that decided to go by their instincts." They were fully aware of the fact that nobody else in the group can fly besides Sparx, and that it would take more time and energy to climb the steep side of the ridge, which was unsafe at this hour. For the sun began to glow a bright and fiery red, transforming the sky first into a similar shade, then outward, radiating a light orange, and causing the blue sky to darken into purple and violet. So they decided to prod along beside its steep, cliff face, which happened to gradually reduce in height, until they discovered the grassy, uphill slope that would lead them to the top of the ridge. The location was satisfactory for the company of cheetahs and humans to set camp, possessing a higher ground for both watching any activity below, as well as having the upper hand during another confrontation.

The drawing force of energy that seemed to be guiding them felt even stronger as they were nearing ever closer to the epitome of their hike. As soon as they do, Spyro and Cynder discovered that in front of them were tall, beautifully colored, glowing clusters of crystals, one red, one green, another blue, and the fourth purple. Knowing what to do next, they both charged directly towards them, acting out of impulse to strike with all their might. They attacked with great ferocity as everyone else observed from behind them, particularly the Doctor, who watched with intrigue.

Eventually, they were able to break down all the gems into several fragments, which were still able to emanate a bright glow from within. Some of them landed squarely onto the young dragons, while others touched the ground. But whenever the dragons came into contact with these fragments, they were immediately absorbed into and through their scales as if they were liquid being soaked into a sponge. And whenever that happened, the dragons felt revived rejuvenated, and became more animate in appearance by the power that was now being kept inside of them. To them, it felt as though the power, life, and energy of a thousand suns entered into their bodies, replenishing the energy they had depleted during the battle and the chase, and then some.

"What were they? And how'd you know where they were," the Doctor asked after the dragons absorbed every fragment in sight, taking the time necessary to ponder what question he should properly enquire.

"Trust me. You don't want to know. It's really weird," Sparx murmured, "Though, in retrospect, I take it you go for that kind of thing."

"They're spirit gems," Spyro answered, "They have this power inside that comes from the knowledge, wisdom and strength of our ancestors. We were just… drawn to their energy, and that's how we found them, I guess."

"And that means only you dragons can absorb that power, right?"

"Yeah," this time Cynder responded, "But Malefor taught the apes how to draw the energy out of them so that they could use it while they served him."

"And the apes got greedy and decided to use that power for their own ambitions," the Doctor surmised with a tilted brow, "That would explain why their master cursed them the way he did."

"Is something the matter, Doctor," asked Professor Song.

"Hmm? No, not really," he replied, staring blankly into the distance, "Just wondering who else might've known how to harness the power from these crystals, and if they've done so already." Then, turning his head to direct his undivided attention to her with a slight glare of suspicion, he added, "Also if anybody else could've _stumble_ upon this planet and wondered if they could do the same."

With that, Professor Song responded by calmly and simply turning towards her expedition team, giving them orders to make camp and decide whoever takes the first watch with her. As this transpired, Spyro and Cynder looked at each other mystified by the subtle exchange that was being made between Professor Song and the Doctor. Sparx, the only one willing to comment on the tension between the two, remarked, "Boy, are they like a couple that's not on speaking terms, or what? Sheesh! Do they have problems?"


	8. Many Changes

Eight

Many Changes

Much to everyone's fortune and relief, no raid was ever attempted that night, nor was there any sign of those hideous creatures lurking below the campsite as the Doctor kept watch with Hunter, Professor Song, and their respective team members on separate shifts. And this turn of good fortune extended entirely through the next day, for the company continued in their travels, in the same sharp and constant momentum as they have done these past two days, without any further complications. In fact, the entire forest and valley became so tranquil, that the trekking party began to hear certain call sounds of the wildlife returning to the once lively and most harmonious environment, though at first they all listened to them with apprehension. This sudden shift from suspicious silence to luscious serenity did not escape anyone's attention, for even the humans of Professor Song's brigade were familiar enough to their alien surroundings to acknowledge such in low whispers of even more uncertainty than when the area was completely still.

_It's almost as if this whole day were too good to be true_, Spyro pondered. He recalled how the majority of this trip to Hunter's village viewed this forest as desolate and lifeless as if the vegetation were rotten and withered also. He would go so far to say that they might as well have, this area was so devoid of life and energy. And when the Doctor wielded his extremely loud, sonic blast on the Grublins, the brunt of which everyone was spared due to the fact that it was directed away from them, not even a flock of birds perched in the trees sprang out of hiding. But now, as the sun reached its peak in the midday sky, it would appear that all the woods' inhabitants have come out of hiding entirely to relish and savor the clear, warm daylight.

It was this timid acknowledgement of such a sudden, sharp contrast in nature that Spyro was reminded of how this world was still placed in a bleak state of chaos and disorder, well after the fact that he and Cynder defeated Malefor, ending his reign of evil altogether. Despite all his efforts of doing what was right, giving his life to a cause that he was barely introduced to, after recently discovering the truth about himself, nothing in the world seemed to improve, especially in thirteen years' time. And like Cynder, this was not thirteen years for the purple dragon, for he has still freshly returned from that confrontation with the Dark Master, which, also for him, came shortly after what happened at the Well of Souls. And that was another matter that became so discomforting for Spyro: that the world has been moving forward while he found himself hardly doing the same. That while the darkness has grown and developed during his and Cynder's absence, which lasted momentarily for them, he felt he has not grown as much as he should have through such a long period of time.

_But how can I? I mean, thirteen years, and I should've grown up by now. But I'm not_. After reflecting on the complexity of this train of thought, he realized he could only imagine how Cynder herself felt. He turned to face his companion, who was walking alongside him, in which they were at the center of the traveling expedition as they have been the entire duration of the trip. As Cynder turned to face him as well, Spyro recalled how she transformed out of the massive monster she was forced to become, and into the size and appearance appropriate to her actual age. He wondered what it must have been like for her to alter drastically from her dark, potent and adult form into that of a weak and helpless youngling as he would have been had their roles been exchanged. In fact, that was the very position in which Spyro began this journey in his life, not even knowing who and what he truly was, let alone what things were happening outside of the world he grew up in. And now, to find Cynder and himself in this position of being trapped in this youthful, premature state as the world around them progressed, yet only into more darkness and disarray, was disheartening to say the least.

_The world has moved on while we're still in this journey of finding ourselves_. The young purple dragon could not prevent himself from sensing a deep and heavy sentiment of responsibility and failure on his part, for both the world and Cynder. This is the same kind that he has felt repeatedly in his heart ever since he learned of their decade-long disappearance, as if he were consistently driving his own claws deep into his chest. And now, after sharing this brief glance with Cynder, he knew fully well that this exact sentiment was strongly shared between the two of them, even though they have not spoken a word of this, even to each other. They could simply see it whenever they looked deeply into the other's saddened, self-loathing eyes.

Spyro had secluded himself into these darkened thoughts throughout today's travels, for the entire company encompassing Cynder and himself have mostly kept to themselves and remained silent, listening aptly with vigilance to their surroundings. It is only after catching a glimpse of the village straight ahead that everybody heaves a great sigh of relief, and become less anxious and more hopeful. But all that hope they possessed prior to their arrival was replaced suddenly with a sense of foreboding, for the moment they were in closer proximity to the village walls, they became aware of the fresh scorch marks and heavily splintered sections that were on them.

* * *

Everyone hastened through the main entrance of the village's recently damaged fortifications to find an entire force of cheetahs huddled together in arms, anticipating to face another wave of attackers.

"Hey, look at that, they have a welcoming committee for us and everything," Sparx beamed with hyperbolic delight.

"Hunter, you're back," exclaimed a female member of the village's defensive cluster. After finding the source of the voice from the right flank, near the front, Hunter brightened at the sight of her, saying, "Hello, Brook."

The two cheetahs departed from their respective groups, reuniting with a warm embrace as both parties lowered their weapons in a relaxed manner. Then more shouts emanated from further within the village as two cubs sprinted out from the huts with joy, "Papa! You're home!"

Cynder watched with slight amazement and paralysis at this abrupt revelation of Hunter's family whom she and Spyro never met before, as she recalled her last words to Spyro when the world was being torn apart. She saw Hunter gently broke away from his wife and mate's arms to reach out and snatch the first cub to meet him, while the second wrapped her miniature paws around his leg. Both of them were relatively small in size and very young, that she surmised them to be between six to seven years of age.

"Fern, Rain," she heard Hunter gleam with laughter upon reuniting with his two daughters, something that neither Cynder nor Spyro heard from him since they first met, "It's wonderful to see you too."

By this time, all the inhabitants of the village dispersed from their protective gathering and rejoined with their loved ones as well. Some of the other young cubs who kept themselves concealed during that time came out also to cheerfully greet their returning parents.

"We're happy that you safely made it back," said Brook after picking up their second cub.

"Yes, we feared the worst may have befallen you," spoke up the leading cheetah of the village defenders.

"Chief Prowlus," Hunter greeted his clan's alpha and leader respectfully, then asked, "What's happened here?"

"It was two days ago," the chief answered, "Shortly after you and the others departed with the dragon Guardians for the Southern Valley, we were attacked by Malefor's foul creatures from long ago. They arrived with sudden force from the same direction as you traveled."

"They have all returned," Brook added with wary concern, "Grublins, wyverns and trolls."

"They struck in waves upon waves of hundreds," Prowlus continued, "We were just fortunate enough to last through the night before they finally turned back."

"How many casualties," Hunter inquired keenly.

"Seven of our fellow cheetahs were slaughtered upon the enemy's immediate strike. We barely managed to ensure the lives of everyone else, and our cubs' safety in time. But more than thirty have been terribly wounded, and fourteen are missing. We are hardly capable of fending off another assault."

"And all this happened even though they were without their elite warriors," said Hunter's mate, "We surmised that you might have fallen victim to them also."

_She was afraid the worst had happened to him_, Cynder thought as she listened to this discussion, though from a distance, beside Spyro.

"Just yesterday, we were ambushed by grublins also," Hunter announced after listening to this horrifying summary concerning his home, "But we were able to evade their grasp, and fought them off unscathed."

"I think I speak for the entire clan when I say we're glad to hear such comforting news," Prowlus responded with slight relief, "We could certainly use the fresh, great prowess from you and the cheetahs you led."

"Actually," said Hunter in correction, "We were only able to survive through our combined efforts with these humans…"

"Yes, of course," his chief replied, acknowledging Professor Song and her team with a mere nod, "We're grateful for their assistance also."

"…as with the help of our returning heroes," Hunter finished as he gestured with his open paw to Cynder and Spyro. Everyone from the village, who were then listening to Hunter's dialogue with the chief, finally noticed the two young dragons that disappeared for ten long years. The inhabitants were oblivious to their presence before, for they were still surrounded by their much taller escort. They gasped with wonderment and awe at this unexpected sight, rekindling their hopes for victory even more so with cheers and shouts of joy.

Feeling slightly awkward by this sudden praise of their presence, Cynder lowered her head with a slight blush, and turns to face Spyro, who shared with her a similar look of discomfort, which consoled one another. However, what they, or anybody did not expect was the sharp voice of discontent from the clan's chief, "Send them away! Those two are not welcome here."

"But we're here to help you too," Cynder responded, "We're on your side, remember?"

"Oh boy, here we go again," Sparx muttered with a crossing of his thin arms and a roll of his miniscule eyes.

"You and the purple dragon might have defeated Malefor and saved us," Prowlus answered, directing his sword to them, "But that seemed to stop you from returning to assist us these past ten years."

_But that wasn't our fault_, Cynder attempted to growl with annoyance at that remark.

"Chief Prowlus, I can assure you," Hunter spoke up on their behalf instead, "They are not to blame for their disappearance. For them, they have just returned from their fight with the Dark Master and restoring the world from shattering to pieces."

After a brief pause of perplexity on his chief's part, and murmurs amongst his clan, he continued, "And they are our best hope in ending this war with the pirates."

"That may be so," the chief answered evenly, "But don't forget that we have a new crisis in our hands."

"The grublins are not their responsibility either," Hunter responded, "You know as well as anyone that only the Dark Master could give them life."

"But he's dead, as you also well know, Hunter. Those two still have the potential for great darkness. And we've now learned that they recently reappeared, the same time these terrible creatures did."

These words struck a horrible blow into Cynder, who has fought long and hard to break free of the shackles of her dark past. And turning to face Spyro, knowing his efforts in aiding her, and becoming aware of his own inner struggle against the darkness, saw the same repulsed expression on his face.

"Now, I've heard the expression 'there's no such thing as coincidences,'" came a new voice, firmly joining the conversation, "but that's just going a bit too far, don't you think, Chief?"

"And who might you be," the chief asked, inquiring the identity of the strange physician, who stepped up alongside Hunter and himself.

"The Doctor," he answered, "And I came here to bring the two dragons back to their home world after I found them."

"_Kidnapped us" is more like it_, Cynder muttered inwardly.

"And I just came here when all these grublins popped up," he continued with raised brows, "at the same time, and the same manner, mind you, as the dragons. And since I'm the one that's new in this neighborhood—well, newest member, at least—why aren't you coming up to blame me for all your problems?"

Suddenly, before anyone could respond to the Doctor's question, let alone Chief Prowlus, a high-pitched sound emanated from Professor Song's device. Spyro looked to see her analyzing it warily, wondering what might be the cause of the alert this time. He got his answer not from Professor Song, however, but from the village watchtower instead as the alarm bell tolled throughout.

"Wyvern," the guard shouted, "To the east! Grublins approaching from the south!"

"They intend to flank us," Prowlus exclaimed, "And try to cut off any escape we may attempt."

Just then, chaos and disorder ensued as the chief gave orders for Hunter to take his cheetahs a certain position, and Professor Song commanded her team of humans to take their place wherever the defenses are weakest. Spyro saw the Doctor brush past the scattering crowd as he made his way to the east side of the village, then turned to see Cynder watching Brook instruct her cubs, and all the rest, to take shelter again before joining the others into combat.

"Cynder," Spryo shouted, "Let's go. They could use a paw."

"Ah, saw what you did there," Sparx said hysterically, "But now's probably not a good time to try and boost morale."

After looking back to watch the cubs safely making their way to places of concealment, Cynder turned around and took flight eastward. Spryo took a brief moment to follow Cynder's gaze, watching as the young members of this village, Hunter's cubs in particular, seeking shelter and protection from the destruction that might be wrought onto their homes, then turned also to fly closely behind Cynder and Sparx.


	9. A Fight for Their Lives

Nine

A Fight for Their Lives

"Hunter! I need you and your finest archers on the east wall. Shoot down those wyverns, and stop them from causing any damage. The rest of your cheetahs will join me at the south to guard the main entrance."

"Dave! Take three of our crew to join Chief Prowlus and assist, but conserve your ammunition. We may need as much as possible if we have to make an opening for our escape."

"Right, Professor. And you?"

"The rest of us will be fowl hunting."

Everywhere River looked she saw the inhabitants of the village scrambling and pushing past one another to get to their battle stations, some even shouting out orders toward their subordinates amidst the clashing of shields, the twanging of bows, and the brandishing of swords. She spotted the Doctor's brown coat past the blurry motions of cheetahs' furs and cloaks and ordered her team to follow her as she hastened to accompany him. Eventually, as the chaotic crowds somewhat subsided when everyone was in position, River and her group made their way beside the Doctor, Hunter, and the two dragons. She observed the cheetahs taking aim with their bows, and firing arrows toward the hideous creatures in the sky, while the Doctor continued to spectate the violence that began to unfold, as if he were looking for weaknesses in the wyverns' attack formation or their abilities. As she looked back up towards the sky, she noticed they were performing somersaults and flips, eluding every arrow that the cheetahs have given them.

"Okay, everyone," she called out to her fellow humans, "They can't dodge what they can't see coming. Fire at will!"

At that, River raised her rifle, used her crosshairs to lead the first wyvern she sighted, took aim, and pulled the trigger. Though at first it was difficult to acquire a clear shot of the flying animals, due to their unpredictable twists and turns, River and her team began to grow accustomed to their targets, beginning to successfully hit their marks. So much so, the cheetahs under Hunter's charge drew out their rifles as well, and the dragons began to breathe shots of venom, fire, ice, and even a fearful shriek from Cynder, which began to unravel the wyvern, keeping them from maintaining formation.

"Concentrate and control your fire," she ordered, "Don't waste any slugs with a spray!"

"Look out!" Just then she felt something tackle her onto the ground, as some form of dark energy flew past her head and exploded into black, violet flames behind her. On top of her was the Doctor, who quickly sprang back onto his feet to watch as more dark fire, and what appeared to be sonic blasts were shot from the wyvern. They destroyed everything on contact, including segments of the eastern wall and a few village homes. The wall began to falter as the cheetahs rose up from the ground also, attempting to recover from that sudden attack. Spyro and Cynder were to first to spring back into action, taking off to fight with tooth and claw against the beasts that were closest to them, which was no longer a safe distance from the village.

As the two dragons took to the sky, wrestling with their nearest opponents, River noticed the Doctor raising his sonic screwdriver, elevating its emission side and activating its blue crystal to glow. It sent an extremely high-pitched sound wave outward, and River turned to face the sky and oncoming beasts once more to witness it deflecting more of the wyvern blasts, preventing them from reaching the ground. Instead, they projected themselves back to their source, causing the shocked creatures to recoil upwards for a moment before plunging down into the forest beyond, never to soar again.

As the dragons completed their airborne sparring match with their rivals, they turned to also notice the skies now cleared of wyvern, and flew back to the village, which became even more heavily damaged than before the creatures arrived.

"Yeah, Doc, nice trick," Sparx cheered with slight mockery, "Just wish you could've done that sooner." Seemingly oblivious to the dragonfly's remark, the Doctor turned to face River and Hunter and inquired, "Is there any way to reinforce that barrier before another wave hits?"

"I'm afraid not," Hunter answered, "All we have are a few carts and rafts left undamaged, and that won't be enough to barricade the wall from another strike, wyvern or grublin."

"Nor can we risk getting close to the wall in the line of fire," River added, "It could collapse on top of us."

"Well, how about using your flashy, noisy, stick thing to make the wall attack-proof," Sparx offered.

"I can't use the sonic to manipulate organic matter," came the Doctor's irritant response.

"What's that supposed to mean," Cynder snapped in frustration.

"It means I have no way of reinforcing that wall," the Doctor shot back, "And the next wave of creatures will knock it down, leaving us completely vulnerable."

"That's not the only thing we have to worry about," Spyro said as he directed everyone's attention to the activity behind them. They all turn to see patches of soil popping up in sudden dispersions and grublins beginning to roll out from underneath the village grounds.

"So that's why they're called _grub_lins," muttered River.

"Oh, come on," the Doctor said in a low growl.

"Get everyone at the entrance to fall back," ordered Hunter to his fellow cheetahs, "We must stay together if we wish to stand a chance against them."

"We'll give you cover fire," River stated, "So they won't try to intercept." But before she and her group could even raise their weapons upon their new arrivals, Spyro and Cynder pounced into the fray. They fought with ravenous fury against the creatures with their elemental attacks, along with their claw-thrashing, tail-swashing, and teeth-lashing maneuvers, as well as their aerial acrobatics, all of which seemed to portray their own form of martial arts.

"Come on, let's go," shouted the Doctor as he ran past a few who began to stare at the carnage before the dragons. But Hunter and River were the ones who followed the moment they heard him, and the others spontaneously took up their leaders' example. As soon as their fight with the grublins was reduced to a massive pile of corpses, Spyro and Cynder dashed to rejoin their comrades, leaving a trail of ash, ice, dirt and green fluid that fell from their teeth and claws.

Once they reached Prowlus and the others, Hunter advised his chief to pull back and gather near the square, which was in the northwest corner of the village. Slowly and gradually, the cheetahs, humans and dragons drew away from the ever advancing horde of beasts, which began to scale the walls and completely surround them. The village inhabitance found themselves huddled up against the wall nearest to the mountains, with the cubs and the wounded kept closely together behind them.

"They've got us cornered," exclaimed Dave.

"Yeah, thanks for noticing," Sparx quipped in turn.

"We can't even get the cubs and injured to safety in the Forbidden Passage," said a distraught Brook. The countless opposition swarmed ever closer to the village defenders, many of which were close enough for the cheetahs to lower their bows and rifles and draw out their swords.

"Doctor," said River, "Please tell us you've got a plan."

"Maybe, I don't know yet," he answered her, "Brook, is it? Did you just say Forbidden Passage?"

"Yes, it's the shortest route to Warfang from here."

"But that's to the east of us," Hunter added, "We have no way of reaching it." River followed the Doctor's shifting gaze from the ominous swarm of grublins to the unstable wall to their left.

"Oh, that's very good," He gasped, "Why didn't any of you say so before?"

"I take it you got a plan, then," said River.

"Oh, yes!" Suddenly the Doctor raised his screwdriver, examining it and making a few adjustments. "It's brilliant, because these aren't the same grublins that attacked us earlier. They were all wiped out."

"Yeah…"

"…so," asked two aggressively impatient dragons as they fought.

"So, they don't know _how _we were able to beat them. They only know that we did, plain and simple." The Doctor continued to fiddle with his device, which began to flicker on and off, as the grublins were nearly on top of them.

"What are you getting at, Doc," Sparx inquired with great anxiety.

"Which means I get to do this again." Just then, the Doctor raised his sonic instrument towards the enemy, pressing up the emission to elevate. But the moment he lit the blue crystal, it instead set off sparks of electricity and began to waver.

"Oh, no! No! No! No! No!"

"What's wrong," River asked as she and her team drew out their daggers for hand-to-hand combat.

"The sonic wave I sent to stop the wyvern drained a lot of its energy," he replied as he hastily returned to meddling with his device, "It's recharging, but I need a bit more time."

"We don't have any," Cynder growled before sending another terrorizing shriek towards the grublins.

"What do we do now," yelped Sparx in a fit of panic.

"I need a diversion. Something to distract them for a little while."

"Like what?" River removed her dagger from one grublin to be quickly engaged with three more.

"Like a flashy, noisy stick thing. Sparx!"

"Who, me?"

"You're an insect. Hover around their faces, irritate them a bit, and make yourself useful for once."

"What... b-but I can't –"

"Sparx, just do it," shouted Spyro after sending a barrage of ice. Seeing that there was no point or time to argue, the dragonfly threw himself directly into the horde of grublins, frightfully making sneers and comical faces while shouting mockeries and improvised jargon at their faces.

"Nah! Nah! Come and get me you overgrown dirt clods! What's the matter, can't even hurt a dragonfly?" What he lacked in provoking insults, Sparx made up for in speed, agility and irritancy, for he flew from one grublin to the other, hovering over their faces in one second, and gone the next. Having momentarily shifted their focus on their oncoming nuisance, the creatures began to pause their ominous attack only slightly. But that short respite was more than enough.

"Hey, I think I'm a natural at this! Whoa!" Sparx noticed the Doctor raising his screwdriver again to send another blast of sonic waves onto the grublin forces, barely able to dash upwards in time to evade its full brunt. The grublins reeled back, and in a daze slowly struggled to rise back onto their stout legs, pressing onto their ears with moans of throbbing pain.

"Allons-y!" Everyone turned their attention away from the sudden wonder before them to watch the Doctor dashing to the east, directly towards the wall.

"Let's move," River sharply ordered her crew, as she ran off in pursuit of him, with the dragons and cheetahs trailing closely behind.

"Keep the cubs and wounded in the center," shouted Prowlus, "I've got a feeling we're in for it now."

"Spyro! Cynder! The wall! Blast it!" Upon hearing the Doctor, the dragons swiftly came up beside him, sending a strong gust of wind and seismic pulse. While the pulse turned the wall into splinters, the wind sent them upon the unsuspecting reinforcements of trolls on the other side.

"Trolls," Prowlus warned his clan after seeing their latest arrivals, "Prepare yourselves!" The remaining beasts that were fortunate enough to sustain a few minor injuries from the sudden strike, shortly became unfortunate as they fell back onto the ground after receiving a simultaneous torrent of missiles from the humans and cheetahs. But even then, when every creature before them was immobilized, there was no time for celebration, for much more trolls and grublins quickly emerged from the south.

"Brook! Hunter! Lead on!" The cheetahs were in full sprint eastward the moment the Doctor shouted his orders. As River continued to lead her team to follow along with everyone else, she caught a glimpse of two cheetahs stumbling over and dropping their injured comrade, whom they were carrying on a canvas.

"Keep moving," she ordered. She then turned back to offer them assistance as her team and the cheetah clan rushed past her. As soon as she was on one side of the canvas to help, she saw the Doctor dashing over to the other. Both pulled the cheetahs back onto their feet and grabbed the occupied canvas in what seemed like an instant.

"Ruunuh," barked the Doctor from behind, as he and River found themselves near the back of the racing escort.

"No need to shout," she retorted under her panting, "I know what to do next."

"Less talking. More running." They continued to scurry through the bushes, leaves and bramble, as well as hop over the occasional stone or root, when they were able to catch a glimpse of an opening within the upcoming mountain slope.

"Is this version of you always this tense?"

"Only when lives are at stake."

"I'll take that as a yes, then." The rustling sounds and growls of their pursuers gradually became louder and louder with each passing moment. By the time the Doctor and River's section of the group entered into the cavern, she noticed the sound of his feet faltering, and turned her head to see him hand over his end of the canvas to another cheetah in flight.

_Like passing a baton_, she thought in realization. But she had no way of stopping to turn back and see what he was doing. All she could do was maintain the pace and lead on, carrying the wounded cheetah with the rest of the clan sprinting around her.

"Spyro! With me," she heard his shouting echo throughout the passage. Everyone else also heard him, and decided to halt and turn back, wondering what was to happen next. River looked to see the entrance of the cave a short distance away, where shadows and silhouettes began to cluster, and deeper within the tunnel stood the Doctor and Spyro between the fleeing party and their foes.

"I need you to create another seismic force in their direction."

"I can't," said the long-winded dragon, "I don't have enough energy."

"Don't worry, I've got just the thing for that. Just send as big a pulse as you can towards them. I'll take care of the rest."

"What are they doing," asked Cynder.

"We can't delay for anything," Prowlus growled with impatience.

_Oh, no_. River turned back to clan and shouted, "Everyone, keep moving! They're about to cause a landslide."

"They wouldn't dare," said Prowlus, "That's too risky!"

"Oh, he would," she muttered under her breath. As they pressed onward through the passageway, she heard the buzzing echo of the Doctor's screwdriver and felt the ground under her feet erratically shaking. Suddenly the violent tremor transformed into a great jolt, causing everyone to stumble and fall, along with rocks and dirt that began to pile on top of them.

"Brace yourselves!"


	10. In the Dark

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Doctor Who or The Legend of Spyro. All rights respectively belong to BBC and Sierra Productions.**

Ten

In the Dark

His ears rang unceasingly for what seemed like an eternity. He felt as though a great weight has been suddenly dropped onto his shoulders, back and head. The ligaments and tail were so sore and restraint, he thought he could never move. Spyro rose from the soil and stone that nearly buried him, coughing out whatever dust that entered into his lungs. He then used his forepaws to brush off the dirt that obscured his vision as best as possible, only to open his eyes to the sight of complete and utter blackness. He could not even see the paw in front of his face, let alone the Doctor, who stood directly beside him. In fact, the only consolation he had to indicate any signs of life was the sounds of others coughing and groaning from the rockslide he and the Doctor created. With his head throbbing, his limbs weakened, his lungs still short of breath, and his energy depleted, Spyro shakily and warily stood upright from the debris that practically entombed the entire band of now-turned refugees.

"Is everybody alright," he heard Professor Song shout, along with spontaneous echoes. He then picked up on the sounds of other voices, muttering in affirmation.

"All present and accounted for," Prowlus' voice shortly followed. Both the chief and the professor spoke up in roll call for their respective species, as the Doctor offered some light by activating his whirring instrument. The blue radiance emanating from the crystal on top began to flicker at first, but gradually solidified into a constant, bright glow. Shortly after that, a golden beam wavered also to Spyro's right, who turns to see his brother and friend slowly hovering from the rocks and dirt.

"Pthuh! Ptheh! Pthah," said Sparx as he spat out the sentiment from his mouth, "Yuck! Now I _really_ know I'm not related to worms."

"Cynder," Spyro grunted as he stumbled towards a pile of rocks that was moving on Sparx's left. As he reached the loose pile of heavy debris that rose and fell, he gave whatever strength he had left in order to lift as many rocks off of his companion as he could. It was shortly after, when it became clear that he was already well spent, that the Doctor and Professor Song offered their assistance to remove the rubble, given they were among the first to fully recover from the landslide.

It was only a few moments later that they began to feel scales underneath the debris that they hurriedly shoved the remaining stones from on top of the dragoness who was regaining consciousness. She made a low groan in pain as she slowly and shakily moved her legs to lift herself.

"Cynder! You're okay!" _Thank goodness_, he sighs in a low whimper of relief, oblivious to the sound of movement from behind.

Spyro lowered his head to offer her help and support so she may raise back up to at least a seated position. Cynder heaved a great sigh of exhaustion and soreness as he asked her, "How're you feeling? Anything broken?"

"Don't think so," she grunted after an extended paused to catch her breath, "Just glad I'm breathing and back on my feet. Thanks, Spyro."

"One favor for another," he responded, recalling how she aided him in the T.A.R.D.I.S., "What are friends for, huh?" The both share a brief moment to smile in their fatigued state before they hear a shout from further within the cavern.

"Don't any of you see now? See what damage has been done when our renowned heroes return from oblivion! Their arrival has brought those vile creatures back from the earth, and now look at the end result! Our homes are destroyed, making us nothing but wanderers in refuge, half-buried in this cave, trapped in this darkness with those things still after us with no way out!" More pebbles and dirt slide down from the pile that now covered the entrance to the passageway as this statement escalated into a confrontation.

"Prowlus, now is not the time for blind accusations," said Hunter who stood alongside his family, "They are not to blame for this attack. They have given their lives to protect us once again, even, for them, they confronted Malefor shortly before."

"And you know Malefor is dead," the tribal chief fumed in response, "That the moment those two dragons set foot in our village, the grublins, wyverns and trolls followed soon after, as if they were led here by their new masters. Are you so naïve to ignore what is staring you in the face, Hunter? So blind in trust to not see you have lowered your defenses, nearly at the expense of your clan, your own family?"

This prompted Spyro and Cynder to lower their heads, too drained to even offer any retaliation verbally or not, even if they felt like doing so, so tired to even listen past the heated argument and hear the rolling and falling of stones from behind them.

_Can things get any worse_, he thought lamentingly.

"Oh, and I suppose you see yourself as justified to make such brash conclusions before having all the facts. Or if you did, you have the right to twist and contort them however you like." Spyro looked up to see the Doctor rise from the dragons' side and advanced toward Prowlus full of impatience and frustration. As he did so, the rocks in the rubble cleared to reveal the shape of a hand and glowing, red eyes from within shadows.

"And I suppose you could've found a way to escape from all those creatures and save your village without their help, and a better way to handle the situation. Or better yet, a way to save this whole planet from all its problems all on your own. Because if you did, I haven't heard you say anything, let alone seen you do anything about it. I'll wager you would've put the blame on anyone else if those two weren't around to have your finger on them."

"Very well, stranger," the chief growled back, "Let's have a look at what _you've_ done, shall we? You put all our lives in peril by having the mountain above bury us alive, cutting off our chance to return and rebuild our home, as well as any chance to retrieve those that have been missing. And if you're so insistent, let us suppose this great evil is returning through _you_. Let's say _you _are the darkness to blame. Like the hermit warned, 'the evil is returning through the dark.'"

"What did you say," the Doctor asked with widened eyes and a rasping tone.

"Alright, that's enough!" They all turned to face the source of the interruption through the darkness, seeing Professor Song rolling her eyes as she continued, "Blimey, the testosterone in here's unbearable. Do any of you expect to accomplish anything with all this bickering? Really?"

She then turned to Chief Prowlus and offered a hand onto his shoulder for comfort, "Look, I'm sorry about your village, and what happened to your tribe is unfortunate, but there is, and was, nothing we can do about it. We were in no position to assist anyone, especially those who disappeared, except ourselves. And those creatures that were after us can only go around this mountain to catch us, while we now have a clear, straight shot to Warfang to get your young and injured to safety. And as for who's _really _responsible for all this," she paused to look at everyone listening, lastly at the Doctor, "getting to Warfang is the first step in getting the answers we need."

"She is right," Brook offered, "The only thing we can do now is focus on the present, and press onward, not to wallow in the past, nor worry about the future. So, Chief Prowlus, Professor Song, what should we do now?"

"Oi, I thought I was in charge," the Doctor muttered, prompting a smirk from River Song. Everyone then remained silent as the leaders of their respected races determined their next course of action.

* * *

Cynder's spirits were slightly lifted from this transitioning discourse, as well as relieved to hear that they plan first to stop and rest for the night to replenish their strength and care for the wounded. At first, she was more than willing to lie down and succumb to slumber on the spot. However, her senses seemed to quirk back into optimum alert when she suddenly became aware of some kind of shuffling of feet near the buried entrance of the cave. She was feeling the scales on the back of her neck standing on end, as if something were breathing down on it, and the ligaments of her wings began to twitch, as though they were begging her to take flight. The vibrations made from all the steady hobbling seemed to also cause her spine to tremble. But she held firm, and slowly turned her head to determine the source of the sound, carefully sneaking a peek from the corner of her eye, hoping to view the threat lurking in the dark without its knowledge.

Cynder first saw in her peripheral the silhouette of a large foot in the shadows, just beyond the reaches of the artificial light of Song's team and the Doctor, as well as the natural of Sparx. She then heard a low, rumbling growl emanating from above, prompting her to lift her eye upward to identify the source. What she saw next, however, was a giant hand slinking into the light, reaching for the first thing it could grab. Following its path of intent, her eyes enlarged even more and dove toward it as quickly as possible.

"Spyro," she shouted as she reached for the oncoming threat, claws extended. Cynder clasped onto the maniple threat against her friend. She felt her weight suddenly tugged away from where she would have landed, clinging as best as she could as she swung violently against the cave wall. She shook off the throbbing pain from the impact after hearing the thunderous roar that came from the troll, whose arm she desperately clung to. Upon swinging back and forth a second time due to the monster's anger and irritation, Cynder lifted her hind legs and extended her claws to take hold underneath the wrist, tightly firming her grip, feeling as if her life depended on it.

_Why isn't anyone helping_, she thought impulsively, and in slight panic, as she felt her fatigue and giddiness begin to take hold of her, despite the adrenaline rush. She turned to look in the general direction of the light, which became a blur from all the shaking, and noticed a purple blur sprawled onto the floor, and heard someone's voice call out, "Cynder!"

She held onto the troll's arm with all her might, attempting to regain some composure and find a way to retreat from this situation she found herself in, then heard the loud _pop _from one of those strange, yet potent weapons. Consequently, the troll, now in pain and shock from the impact made on its shoulder from the weapon, stood still enough for Cynder to retain her bearings. Having done so, she spotted an opening before hearing the troll bellowing a furious roar and charging towards the others. As it began its menacing advance, she swung her tail toward the beast, placing is javelin spade into its abdomen, forcing it to halt abruptly and bend over in response to the sudden injury. Before it could wrap its arms around his wounded belly, Cynder retracted her claws, allowing her to fall harmlessly onto the ground in front of it. However, the trauma from the impact on the wall began to properly sink in, causing her to remain limp on the cavern floor.

"Cynder," she heard Spyro cry out, who was thrown out of the troll's grip due to Cynder's intervention, now crawling on all fours in an attempt to reach her.

_Spyro_, she wanted to say with relief, but failed to do so because of her condition. As he made it towards her side, he saw her shakily raising her head up to face their assailant, to which he responds in kind. They both look up, anticipating the sight of the troll's giant fists descending towards their intended targets, sending their doom upon the young dragons. Instead, they view the monster violently swishing one hand in the air, and the other nursing its injury in the abdominal region. The next thing they saw was a bright glow hovering and dancing over its head, and in front of its face.

"Want to pick on the little guys don't you," came Sparx's voice from the small light, "Well why don't you pick on me?" The troll continued to swing with its free hand, trying to pulverize the Irregular Dragonfly as best as it could, nearly slamming him with its fist onto the wall.

"Sparx," both dragons exclaimed. The last thing they witnessed before succumbing to unconsciousness was the sight of various projectiles repeatedly piercing the troll's skin, causing it to recoil back a few steps, then collapsing, first onto its knees, and next sprawled, face forward, onto the earth directly in front of them.


	11. Step Into the Light

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of property for this fiction. All characters, stories, and references belong to BBC and Sierra Entertainment.**

Eleven

Step Into the Light

It was the same as before. Same wide chamber, same roundels of light on the circular wall and ceiling, same eerie blue light emanating instead of bright gold, same giant hourglass in the center instead of the reef table, and no sign of those coral columns once again. It was extremely different in appearance, yet at the same time familiar, not in the sense that it reminded them of the timelords's strange, impossible vessel, but felt as though the chamber were concealed in some enormous cavern. The moisture, the sounds of drips and drops of water falling from above, that dark and foreboding sense of being under the earth was all present in there. Whether they were to take this vision to mean great significance or not, they were unsure, and the memory of their previous encounter in this general area left them uncertain even more.

"_Are you okay_," he asked softly.

"_Only as okay as you are_," she retorted back, though warily. Neither of them could take their eyes away from the shadows that lurk all around them, anticipating another assault as last time. He placed his paw gently near hers, offering a slight touch for comfort.

"_At least we're ready this time_," he said. She answered with the same gesture with somewhat reassurance.

"_I've got your back_."

"_Same here_."

She then huffed with a light chuckle prior to her question, "_You know what Sparx would say next_?"

"_What_?"

"_I've got my back, too_." Both young dragons share a brief moment of mirth upon that statement before they heard the cackle and growl of two new, but familiar voices from behind the hourglass column. Two dragon-like figures enveloped in darkness stepped around it to reveal themselves as they continue with their own gleeful moment, baring their sharp, ravenous maws as they did so.

"_Oh please, don't let us hinder you from your brief solace_," said the female in a hollow, echoing tone resembling Cynder's.

"_Indeed,_" spoke the male similarly, though in Spyro's voice, "_We enjoy a good laugh as much as the next dragon, don't you_?"

"_What do you want_," both hatchlings stated, as they stood in a firm, uniting stance of preparation.

"_Don't worry_," answered the male, who casually strolled on all fours to Cynder's right, "_We want nothing from you_."

"_That is, nothing a few drops of blood can't satisfy_," the female added, walking to Spyro's left. He and Cynder crouched down low, ready to pounce the first instant they sense a substantial threat. They follow the motion of their blackened duplicates with great vigilance, slowly turning themselves to stand adjacent to each other's tails, and snarling with more exceeding menace towards them.

"_But for another time_." One spoke as the other sneered, "_We've pushed you too close to the edge already, as it is_."

"_Quite so. Now it is time for the pair of _you_ to thrust someone _else_ onto the brink_."

"_What are you talking about_," Cynder and Spyro both evenly, though angrily asked.

"_Someone who is much closer to fall than you both put together_."

"_Ten-fold, in fact. Or is it eleven? Twelve_?"

"_We can't quite tell at the moment_."

"_What do you mean someone else_," said Cynder, slightly perplexed.

"_Who_," Spyro joined in from behind her.

"_Now isn't _that_ the question_," chortled a low, rumbling voice that encompassed the entire chamber. The young dragons were bewildered at first, but retained their original stances once they realized another presence has entered.

"_Who are you_," both sharply asked, hoping against all hope that the voice did not belong to the Dark Master. What they received for an answer, however, only puzzled them even more.

"_For the moment, that is irrelevant. But what _is _important at present is the message you must send to your new-found friend from the stars._"

"_What friend_," Cynder said as her eyes motioned in syndicate timing with Spyro's dark doppelganger.

"_You know of whom I speak_," It answered flatly, "_Just not as well as I do. Not even close. We know each other very well, he and I. Almost inseparable. So, please be sure to convey my message for him_."

"_What message_," spoke Spyro.

"_Tell the Doctor this: I have knocked, and I await his answer soon_." Before it could begin another chuckle, however, a great flash of light came flooding through the chamber from one side of the wall. It enveloped all shadows to fade from existence, causing the dark versions of the young dragons to scream in agony as well. Then, the distant echo of someone's voice began to emanate from the rays' source, "…_whatever it is, it's very stro– wha—oh—ooh! Ooh! Something seems to be crippling its defenses. I thing so, just give me a sec— Oh, yeees_!"

"_Ah, I see he has come to wake you from your deepened slumber_," The voice commented, maintaining its confident and threatening demeanor, "_Please send my regards. And don't forget my message_."

Just then, the beam of light intensified to a blinding radiance that engulfed Spyro and Cynder, seemingly erasing, or consuming the entire room from their vision.

"_I just need to reach in, see if I can feel something, an—oh! Oh! Okay, I've got them! Yeah, just let me put a bit of elbow grease into it, pull really hard, and…"_

The two purple dragons slowly shutter their eyes open with a sigh and groan, feebly moving their sore limbs into a sitting position when they felt something lift up from their heads.

"There!" The exclaimed remark startled them both as they tilted their heads slightly upward to face the blurred, but strong radiance of the sun behind a silhouette figure kneeling between them. They adjusted their vision to the sunlight, and begin to recognize the creature before them to be their former kidnapper, with Professor Song standing beside him.

"W-where…"

"…Are we?" Cynder and Spyro wearily asked with a short growl.

"You're okay!" The outburst response they received was followed by a light peck on Cynder's snout, then something small wrapped up partially around Spyro's neck.

"You two made me worried sick! Again," Sparx's familiar voice rang in their ears as they continued to recuperate from their exhaustive slumber, "I mean, not knowing what happened to you guys for ten years is one thing, but not seeing you wake up for three days straight, not knowing what's happening to you, or can't do anything about it, just sitting there watching whatever it was happen to you is another!"

"Glad to see that…"

"…You're okay too, Sparx," the young dragons replied with a wearied smile as they look down to face their insect friend, whose arm still encompassed Spyro's neck.

"We were afraid you might have been—Sparx!"

"What? What is it? Something in my teeth," said the startled Irregular Dragonfly with an innocent shrug.

"Y-you're hurt." Spyro could not fathom the fact that his little brother, Sparx, was missing his left arm, leaving only a bandaged stump in its place, as well as a small piece of strapping wrapped around his head.

* * *

"Yeah, I guess scouting and spying for ten years made me forget how you two like to rough house a little, but hey! At least I'm not a lefty, heh? Heh?" The small dragonfly hovered in front of their dumbstruck faces with another shrug and grin, then giving his sole elbow a nudge onto Spyro's own.

"Sparx, I-I'm…"

"…So sorry," they stammered, still in utter shock.

_Sounds like someone I know_, River muttered inwardly. They then asked at once, "What happened?"

"Oh, come on," moaned the Doctor with a roll of his eyes, "First finishing sentences, and now saying things together. Can it be any more blatantly obvious?"

"Oh, I don't know," River spoke in a low tone, "Some people are more gullible than others." This prompts a sharp glare from the Doctor's pupils as she continued to offer him a grin.

"Uh, okay," Sparx muttered, then clearing his throat he returned his focus back to his dragon friends, "Anyway, after Professor Tune used her gun, pistol, weapon thing to kill that troll that attacked you, there was another cave-in, from all that smashing and crashing around that thing did. We barely made it out alive, thanks to Terrador, but I got stuck in the rubble, and got hit in the head from all those rocks falling all over the place. So I got knocked out, fell down in the process, because I don't sleep-hover, you know, just snore, then the next thing I remember is that I woke up with this bandage on my head, and what's left of Lefty. Haha! 'What's left of Lefty,' still got it."

"Wait…"

"Wait," Spyro and Cynder sharply spoke, "you said Terrador?"

"Yes, well, now then," the Doctor huffed with another eye roll as he picked up where Sparx left off, "Turns out Terrador and the others got the same idea as we did. After dropping off the moles here, the three dragons took the Forbidden Passage and made their way through the mountain to meet us at the village. They showed up just as you two were snatched by the troll."

"There was not enough space for them to get past us and help though," River joined, "And we couldn't get a clear opening to immobilize it, until I was able to fire a round when you injured it. I would've kept at it, if someone hadn't stopped me."

"I keep telling you," he snapped, "The ceiling was already too unstable. The gunshots would have caused another landslide, and I think they contributed to the one that _actually_ happened, along with the troll's rampage."

"Oh please, you just didn't want any more killings to happen. Plus we both know how much you hate guns."

"You speak from experience?"

"Anyway," River continued, "Terrador was able to keep most of the debris from falling, and we were able to get you two in the clear. We spent the night to finally recover, got back to Warfang the next day, and you know the rest."

"Warfang," remarked Cynder in realization. The two dragons finally decided to analyze their surroundings, and found themselves on beds in what appeared to be an infirmary of some kind. Rows of cots spanning across the entire chamber, which was as long as a golem's arm, taller than a full-grown dragon, with windows reaching its entire length underneath the elaborate archway. It consisted of murals that told stories of ancient times, almost as if to remind all occupants who look up what they were a part of, and what they stood for in their daily lives.

"Whoa," Spyro gasped.

"It's beautiful."

"Isn't it," the Doctor said, as River noticed him take an oh-so-brief glance of the architecture as well, "You think this is something, you should see the library."

"What're you going on about," River responded in playful snide, "Besides the workshop, you haven't set foot anywhere else in this place, let alone outside."

"No, but I wager that it would be phenomenal in comparison, judging by how they put such an effort into this hospice." The ecstasy of it all nearly cleared the dragons' minds completely of their woes when they snapped back into their present state, recalling what they must convey.

"Doctor," said Spyro, "There's something we need to tell you."

"It's about whoever's causing all of this," Cynder added.

"What do you mean," the timelord inquired, instantly returning to his adamantly focused expression on his face.

"While we were unconscious," one dragon began, "we had a vision."

"What, like the kind you had when the Chronicler guy was talking to you," the dragonfly asked.

"Chronicler," the Doctor spoke low with perplexity.

"Yeah, but this time it was someone else speaking to us."

"Someone who sounded like Malefor and made us fight with ourselves."

"Or, someone who telepathically disguised his or her voice to _sound_ like Malefor to trigger your own self-disdain, but I'll leave that bit to the psychologists. Continue."

"It told us to give you a message," Cynder spoke up with a heightened sense of urgency.

"What message," both River and the Doctor with inquisition, which caused him to recoil slightly.

_Okay, something irks him_.

* * *

_Never mind. Something really irks him_. River closed the double doors from behind her as she continued to observe this anxious Doctor, who found himself pacing the hallway with such silent ferocity.

"Doctor, what's troubling you?"

"All of this," he growled lowly in response, "This planet, this war, those dragons, your being here, the visions, the prophecy…"

"Okay, slow down. Tell me, what's going on?"

"As if you were to tell _me_ what is going on," he spoke in a heightened tone and increased frustration, as he stopped to show her an inimical glare.

"Doctor…"

"You never bother to answer a single question that I've asked."

"Because you've been asking me like a pompous, pig-headed inspector to his prejudged suspect," she snapped back before she returned to her calm demeanor, "I'm asking you as a friend."

"If you really are my friend," he retorted as he took a few steps forward to face her directly, "I don't even really know you, while you seem to know everything about me. I don't even know if what you say or do is genuine, or out of some guilt complex for something tha—"

Her patience running dry, she raised her right hand for a sharp slap across his cheek, causing him to stagger backward on one foot, gasping in unanticipated shock.

_Damn, he's hard work young. I could've honestly said the same about him_. She watched as he stiffly recovered from her sudden assault, staring at her with one brow raised, and the other furrowed, "What was that for?"

"Shut up, Doctor. Just shut up, and listen. Listen to yourself and wonder: is this the kind of man that you were, and supposed to be?"

After both parties take a slight pause to recollect themselves, River gently took a few steps forward to face him directly, "Look, I understand there are things you don't want to talk about. It's no stroll in the park for myself either, believe me, but you've got to stop brooding over the past, and groaning over small things, like two young dragons finishing and sharing each others' sentences."

"It's not that, it's just…"

"Just what?" First, with a slight chuckle he said, "For a moment, I thought you were going to cut me off there," then, with a sigh he continued, "It's just the whole thing just brought back some…bad memories."

"Bad memories," she spoke inquisitively with raised brows.

"No, no, no," he softly muttered, "Don't do that. No. Don't. Don't." Then, what seemed to be a look of nostalgia and a smirk, she heard him say, "I told her the exact same thing after she mimicked me like that."

_Her?_

"Why," River inquired instead.

"Because in the worst place, at the worst time, when I needed a friend like her to have my back, I was alone with several human beings, _frightened_ human beings willing to do _anything_, and an alien consciousness that stole my voice. But she couldn't have known what would happen."

_An alien copycat, that's new._

"What happened to her?" At this moment, he took a dry gulp as he shifted his eyes, staring blankly toward the doors behind her, then stiffly answered, "Timelord-human metacrisis."

"Oh my…" she cut herself short.

"She took my mind into her own head, and saved everyone and everything. Everyone. All of creation. She saved us." The next action he took was a roll of his eyes and looked to the ceiling, then downward at the floor as he continued, "And I gave her a memory wipe of all our adventures for her troubles."

"Doctor, I'm so sorry."

"The most important woman in the universe, my best friend, and reverted back to the self-depreciating ignoramus she was before, because I put her there."

"You did everything you could to save her. It wasn't your fault."

"You would've liked her," he digressed with another grin, "And I think she would've liked you. You met her once, in fact – well, will meet her."

"Doctor," she spoke up warily.

"And that little slap you gave me, sort of reminds me of how we first met – well, after we first met – well, both times." he continued.

"I think I'm liking her, already," she replied as she returned a smirk of her own, "What was her name?"

"Donna," he lightly whispered after a pause, struggling to contain himself, "Donna Noble."

_An honorable lady_, she pondered amiably, _How fitting._

"Look, Doctor," she spoke with a heavy sigh, "I know you've lived a harder life than anyone would even dare to endure, but like Brook said, don't sulk and dwell on past regrets, focus on the present, step out into the sun, enjoy the universe as you always do, and look forward to a brighter future."

He took a long, deep inhalation through his nostrils when she told him this, then exhaled with a boisterous response as he said, "Right. Well, Professor River Song, in light of these words of wisdom you've so graciously bestowed upon me, allons-y."

"Go where?"

"Like you said, out into the sunlight. I heard they've got a nice little Shoppe over by the courtyard."

"And the Professor?"

"Nah, I don't think he'd care to join us. Besides, I'm sure he's so much occupied in his workshop blowing himself up, as he always has before I arrived. Though mind you, that's the makings of a proper scientist there." Then with the lift of his right elbow he gestured, "So, shall we?"

**I ask you all to please send a review. Any and all feedback is most appreciated, and encouraged, so long as it is clear and non-profane. Thank you, and God Bless.**


	12. New Faces

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters or story references in this fiction. All rights belong to BBC and Sierra Entertainment Productions.**

Twelve

New Faces

The escalated discussion between the Doctor and Professor Song resounded through the doors of the infirmary, but did not receive the dragons' full attention, for they were slowly moving their stiffened limbs and tails to rise out of their cots and stretch. Although the extent of their slumber left them sore, Spyro and Cynder both felt well-rested as well as rejuvenated, after two days of traveling through the forest, along with two confrontations with the recently returned grublins, wyvern and trolls.

_Three, if you count the troll in the cave too_, thought Spyro, after recalling the ordeal they had experienced. He then turned to his friend, sensing how she was pondering over a similar line of thought. Both dragons gave a wide yawn that bared their ominous jaws, and extended their legs, tails, wings and claws as far as they could. They then took a few steps around the chamber, regaining their sense of movement as they heard the Irregular Dragonfly constantly rambling about the Doctor and Professor Song in the background of their hearing.

"…I mean, if you ask me, those two should just tie the knot and get it over with, if they haven't already. Sheesh! Anyway, speaking of which, you guys haven't met Glintz yet, or any of the kids. In fact, you haven't even seen what they did to the place since you've been gone. No sign of a battle with that giant-monster-golem thing you guys fought with a long time ago. Come on!"

"Wait, Glintz," Spyro spoke with perplexity, "Who is Glintz? And…"

"…what kids," finished Cynder from behind. Both gradually made their way to the double doors, following their hovering insect friend directly ahead of them.

"Hey, cut it out, you two," Sparx said in a half-mocking, yet humorous tone, "It's not like I did nothing with my life the past ten years. Other than the war, I mean."

"Sparx, are you saying that…"

"…you have a family," Spyro completed for Cynder this time, both in slight shock, having to receive another grim reminder of how their lives remained stagnant while the world around them proceeded.

"Oh, and the next thing you're going to say is that it's all been in my head, and I that would never stand a chance," replied the insect with a comical whine and roll of the eyes, "Well for your information, I won Glintz's heart, fair and square. As a matter of fact, we saved each other from the…oh, wait. You know what? Why don't I introduce you to her? She can tell you all about it."

"But wait, what about Terrador and the others?"

"Yeah," Cynder spoke also, following Spyro's trail of thought, "It's important that we tell them about our visions right away."

"Weren't you two listening," their dragonfly friend retorted, "Before Professor Stream Ditty and Doctor Sweetie left they said that we'll talk about it in the council-meeting-thing this afternoon. Besides, Terrador thought you guys could use this chance to take it easy. You know, get a little rest and relaxation. So, come on, meet the family!"

"I…can't wait," Spyro stammered.

"Me neither," said Cynder in kind. They steadily regain their bearings as both dragons stiffly walked onward, with Sparx gliding before them, and shakily pressed the doors open.

_What else is new_, Spyro wondered.

* * *

At first, it seemed that all the adolescent dragons required was a breath of fresh air to fully rejuvenate and clear their heads. But it was only to the extent of their gradually recovered limbs, for they could still feel the need to replenish their elemental energy from the crystals and gems. Not to mention their bellies were roaring with hunger after carrying on for five days without any sustenance.

_Well_, muttered Cynder inwardly, _at least Sparx and Glintz sell…fruit_. Given Spyro's upbringing with dragonflies, she was only slightly surprised by his willingness to accept the most unusual dish she had ever seen. As much as she would relish the hunt and chase of a wild boar, her omnivorous urge to satisfy her hunger allowed Cynder to reluctantly do so by means of a fruit salad, as it was called.

In the marketplace, Sparx and Glintz owned and managed a small fruit stand, mainly consisting of berries, given their comparable size and weight, though it never hindered them from creating methods of slicing and peeling fruits as large as, or larger than themselves. With very little assistance from the moles, according to Sparx, their stand contained contraptions that could peel, cut, and squeeze their fresh produce with proportionately remarkable ease. The fruit they attained came through a bartering partnership with gardeners. In exchange for fruit grown from the owners' grounds, Sparx and his family would pay frequent visits and consume any aphids they could find, which they considered as their midday grub.

Upon meeting Glintz, she was a marvel to behold, for her glittering green complexion, gem-like, crimson eyes, along with her can-do attitude made her seemingly glowing with life. She was conservative in her manner of speech, though possessed an unyielding sense of charisma, which, in many ways, kept Sparx's babbling rambles in check. For it was her firm temperance that matched his lively spontaneity, if not superior to it upon occasion, as both dragons noticed.

The young ones, who began to grow out of their larvae phase, were wonderful sights also. Flara, Luminox, Astra and Gusto have begun to develop their own personalities, which seemed to be represented by their unique sparkles of light. Twins Astra and Gusto resembled their father in terms of their golden yellow exterior, as well as their playfully, rambunctious demeanors. Both would share turns in mimicking Sparx whenever he spoke and digressed about certain tales that he shared with Glintz during the war, which they might have heard for the hundredth interval. Flara, the youngest, was very much as reserved as her mother, shimmering a lime shade that highlighted her warm, shy smile. The oldest, Luminox, or Lumey for short, shared elements of both parents, possessing Sparx's vigor, as well as Glintz's calmness, which aided in channeling that energy within him. Two virtually opposing outlooks were embodied by this young dragonfly, whose scarlet glow resembled his grandmother's, and in such harmonious fashion, for he could express himself openly, while also consciously remaining self-collected.

"Yep," Sparx continued speaking, well after telling his stories, while reclining in his lounge leaf, "The years have taken a great toll on this seasoned veteran. After losing Lefty, I think it's time to hang up the old war boots for a while, and rest up here. You know, manage the shop, watch the kids, take a little vacation, and recover from, you know, the trauma of war and stuff."

"Oh, no," said Glintz with a smirk and arms crossed, "You can take your turn looking after things here while I'm gone, as usual. And you can have however many sick days they'll give you, but don't think for a second that you can avoid your scouting shifts after I come back from mine from now on."

"You see what I mean," teasingly asked her husband to the dragons while resting his head on his remaining hand, "Don't you think I had it bad while hanging out with you guys. I've had it just as rough these last ten years with her, and later these four. And you know what? Like with you guys, I loved every second of it."

This prompted a light huff from his wife before saying, "You know you only get away with those kind of remarks because I feel sorry for you, right?"

"Really? I thought it was because of my wit, charm, and dashingly handsome looks."

"Yeah, right. Since when did you think you've got any of those?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe since I first met you," Sparx said while bearing a ridiculous grin on his face.

"Hm. Nope," Glintz replied, "I still felt sorry for you then. And you two stop teasing your father when he's not looking, and finish cleaning that slicer like he told you."

_His perfect equal, alright_, Cynder pondered with a smirk.

* * *

Time had passed entirely unnoticed by all throughout the morn and midday, for although the dragons left most of the conversation to the insects before them, Spyro was able to share a few laughs with Sparx while reminiscing over their youthful shenanigans.

"I remember it like it was yesterday," sighed the Irregular Dragonfly, "Though, I guess for you it probably was."

"Hey," Spyro snapped back, "A few months, at least. Good thing one of us has a sharp memory."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't exactly make you punctual." Their own juvenile banter continued in this fashion for a few hours, both chuckling and sniggering at one another for that duration of time. Cynder and Glintz would listen momentarily to these reunited brothers until they began to have quiet conversations of their own. The serenity of such a gathering among friends and family extended thus, but seemed far too brief, when suddenly…

_Bong! Bong! Bong!_ All turn their heads to face the clock tower that stood over the square, as if that were the first instance they ever heard it ring.

_Three o'clock_, thought the Purple Savior with a slight gasp.

"Oh, no," Cynder said, following her friend's trail of thought, "We need to get back to the citadel now."

"You think they started the council without us?"

"Pff! Nah! Are you kidding," Sparx remarked with a wave of his sole hand, "I'm sure they'd send someone to get you before, or they'll just sit there and wait 'til we show up."

"Sparx, this isn't something to joke about," grunted Spyro with a hop onto all his four paws.

"Yeah," the violet dragoness added while also darting ahead, "It's important that we don't waste any more time than we have already."

"On the contrary," spoke a low, gentle voice before them, as the dragons and dragonflies cut through the courtyard, "I'd say it was time well spent."

In front of them was a tall, slender, though exceptionally built dragoness during the prime of her prowess. Her orange scales brightly gleamed in the early afternoon sunlight, her wing ligaments and claws were golden, while her spikes, three horns and wing membrane were maroon. The tail's tip formed the shape of a scythe, its sharp edge held an orange trim against the maroon of its blunt adjacent. Her azure blue eyes displayed the fiery vigor and aggression that she kept well contained within.

"Oh! Hey, Kindlea," Sparx beamed with a wide wave, "We were just talking about you, weren't we, guys? I told you they'd come get us when they're ready."

"Honey," replied his wife beside him, "Why don't you save your breath so everybody can hear you?"

"That's what I like about you, Dearie," he said, "You know exactly how I think."

"Hm. Mainly because you get your head and your mouth mixed up every so often."

"Kindlea," Spyro whispered, realizing to whom he was addressing upon viewing her appearance and solemnity, "Are you…?"

"…the new Fire Guardian," finished the former Terror of the Skies.

"You presume correctly, my hatchlings," she answered with a warm smile from her wide maw, "Though, in fairness, I was about your age as well, thirteen years ago."

"S-sorry," the purple dragon stammered after a brief stare, "Thirteen years? That was when…"

"When the Dark Master escaped, and you became missing? Yes," she responded evenly, "And no, we've never been introduced, though Ignitus spoke very highly of you," then looking toward Cynder she added, "Both of you. And may I say it is an honor to do so, at last."

_Ignitus_, muttered Spyro, head lowered. Though his death had long since passed, the memory of it was still fresh within the young dragon's mind and heart.

* * *

"You knew Ignitus," Cynder inquired.

"Indeed," said Kindlea, "He was my mentor, and trained me in all that he knew during our fight with Malefor. So when he died three years later, I became a suitable candidate for the role of Guardian in his stead."

"But how come he never...," Spyro began, but stopped himself before he could ask, for fear of offending the dragoness in any way. She, however, knowing the youth's line of thought, offered a kind smile and said, "Given the circumstances of Warfang and beyond ten years ago, I am sure Ignitus never _could_ mention me to the pair of you. Besides which, during that period I was sent to lead a squadron to the old dragons' temple that was raided and reclaim it. It was only after the Great Victory that I received word of his passing, as well as your second disappearance."

"Second," came the Doctor's inquisitive voice from beside the dragons gathered in the square. He stepped up towards them, occupying the gap that was between the dragoness and the rest of the group. Professor Song, who stood nearby, was silently spectating the conversation held between the parties.

"Sorry, didn't mean to intrude," the Doctor continued, "Just couldn't help but overhear you say that they went missing before."

"Yeah, after Malefor got out of that 'Well of Souls' thing, the whole mountain was about to collapse on top of us. Then Spyro got me and Cynder close together and made this huge, ginormous yellow crystal that kept us, like frozen in time, or something, for _three whole years_!"

"Right," he muttered mainly towards himself in thought upon hearing Sparx's response.

"No, you don't understand," the golden dragonfly continued rambling, "Three years! I was stuck in a chunk of rock for three years! Never being able to eat, sleep, or even write a letter to my Mama. Because, you know, she worries."

"At least someone in your life does," said Glintz satirically.

"Um, excuse me, everyone?" All company present once again turned their attention towards the latest member of the social gathering. From behind Kindlea stepped forward a short, somewhat stout figure with velvety brown fur, a white overcoat of some kind, as well as a pair of round spectacles on the bridge of his wide snout. He pit-patted his way towards the young dragons, and stood alongside the Doctor and Professor Song and stammered, "A-are you…? Yes! Yes, you are! Oh my, it-it has been a long time coming for me, this is. My, at last! At long last, I have finally seen them with my own eyes! Uh-uh, I mean, ah, forgive me for my ramblings, but it is such a high honor to finally meet you two dragons. I-I am just at a loss of words right now."

"Um, it's nice to meet you too," Cynder answered with uncertainty, who upon further viewing the fellow recognized him to be a mole.

"Who are you, exactly," asked Spyro.

"Oh yes, that's right," the Doctor brightened and stepped forward as well, "Spyro, Cynder, allow me to introduce you to the Professor."

"Professor Mole, to be precise," the lab-coated talpid added.

_Professor_, thought Cynder, recalling whom the Doctor was supposed to meet when he arrived to Warfang, _Doesn't look like any mole I've ever seen. Aren't they usually soldiers or miners?_

"He's the scientist who's been working on the pirates' latest technology that was captured awhile back," the wandering physician gibbered on, "And may I say, it's been brilliant working with him."

"Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to say such things, Doctor," stuttered the Professor with a modest shuffle of his feet and shift of his glasses, "After all, it's by your coming here that we've finally made some progress on that confounded machine."

"Well," he answered with a shrug, "I'm also pretty amazing in my own right, but it still doesn't detract from my statement that it's _absolutely_ amazing to have a mole as a colleague. I mean, a scientist, who is _actually_ a mole. A mole, and he's a scientist! Didn't I say that was brilliant?"

"Goodness," huffed Glintz, "And I thought I married the biggest loudmouth in the world."

"Don't worry," Cynder heard Professor Song whisper, "You haven't lost in that regard. He's just the biggest loudmouth in the universe, is all."


	13. The Council of Warfang

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters or story references in this fiction. All rights belong to BBC and Sierra Entertainment Productions.**

Thirteen

The Council of Warfang

Inside the colossal dome of the great citadel, containing the council room for all significant figures within the city to attend, the Purple Savior and the reformed Terror of the Skies began to speak to all in attendance about their visions, and more specifically about their most recent. The descriptions of their darkened duplicates, as well as the unknown figure speaking in Malefor's voice disturbed all those present most deeply. Present were the four Guardians, Kindlea, Cyril, Volteer, and Terrador, along with Chief Prowlus and Hunter, Professor Song and Dave, Professor Mole and the Doctor. After sending their children home and leaving Lumey in charge, Sparx and Glintz joined the others as well. Despite the well-sunlit windows shining through the dome, and offering such warmth into the chamber, the atmosphere among the council's members could not be any bleaker.

"My dear goodness," ecstatically blurted Volteer, "I've never heard anything so horrendous, terrifying, discouraging and foreboding, yet so ambiguous, unshapely, vague and incredulous a spectacle in all my life. And believe me that is a stupendous statement in itself, given how many years that I've experienced."

"Yes, Volteer," Cyril groaned, "Truer words have never been spoken. Despite the clearly expressed malevolence of this creature, its intentions, as well as its substantial significance to this conflict remain greatly unknown."

"Indeed," nodded Kindlea, "But if this being knows the stranger who returned our saviors to us so well, it may have indirectly offered us some insight into its own identity."

"Doctor," Terrador inquired, "When you retrieved Spyro and Cynder from their deep trance, did you discover anything about the creature that you might have recognized?"

"Yeah," added Cynder, "It said that you two were very close."

"Look, everyone," answered the Physician of the Stars with a rub of his eyes, "In all my travels throughout the universe, I've made quite a lot of enemies. Like my age, I've got a hard time keeping track of them all. But all I can tell you about this fellow is that he, if it's a _he_, is conniving, rude, narcissistic, and arrogant but also cunning, powerful and deadly, which can only narrow my list down so far. And as far as I know about how close to me this fellow may claim him or herself as, along with his or her apparent telepathic abilities, the only two people I can come up with fitting that description are either now dead or missing."

"Unless," joined in Sparx, with his sole hand under his chin, "It's someone who you know that _is_ dead in your point of view, but _will be_ dead from they're point of view. And even though you know that they're dead now, they won't know that they've been dead now, because right now, for them, they're still alive." It was after an extended pause of everyone offering him stares and quizzical looks that he added with a shrug, "Time travel. Am I right?"

"Honey," Glintz spoke gently while placing her hands onto his shoulders, "Why don't you relax before you hurt yourself."

"Even if that'd be the case," the Doctor sighed, "I still can't predict what they want or how they plan to do it, except that they want me to suffer, and all in the name of chaos or progress. And believe me, the two of them combined is far too random for even _me_ to anticipate. All I know is that this is where, and when, _I'm_ supposed to die."

"And where, _and when_ exactly did you hear that from," asked Professor Song, finally expressing the curiosity she possessed since the day he first arrived on Avalar.

The Doctor then took this time to explain about the prophecy that he had received after an encounter with a species known only as the Swarm. He spoke of how it concerned his death, along with the circumstances in which it will happen, "My song will soon end. It is returning through the dark. He will knock four times." Then he relayed to everyone how Chief Prowlus spoke of a hermit that mentioned a great evil returning through the darkness, and that the moment he arrived here he heard the sound of four beats in four repetitions on his T.A.R.D.I.S. doors. Then, in support of the grublins' sudden reemergence, along with Spryo and Cynder's visions, this evil being seemed to have come here, anticipating the Doctor's arrival, which would fulfill the prophecy.

"So, you see, Prowlus," the Doctor paused, "All this evil returning to your world so suddenly is not because of the dragons, but because of _my _presence here. In fact, I'm in some way responsible for their visions, and the soothsayer's foretelling. Not them."

"But how could you have known it wasn't some sort of trick," River asked, "After all, the creature's telepathic, it must've known about the prophecy through you and decided to use it against you. Besides, did the dragons also hear the knocking while inside the T.A.R.D.I.S. with you, or did it ever cross your mind to ask them?"

"Aw, prophecy, shmophecy," remarked the Irregular Dragonfly, "Come on. Everyone knows how psychics and fortunetellers are always so vague about those kind of things. You can take whatever they say to pretty much mean anything you want. I'm telling you, it's all a sham!"

"You think I could look into the Well here and see if I can figure out more, like last time with the Chronicler," Spyro offered, after spending a deep moment of thought.

"No," answered Terrador, "We can't afford to place you in any more risk than you and Cynder have been already."

"I agree," Kindlea contributed, "It is far too dangerous for you, or any dragon to reach out in such a manner while an unknown, powerful entity is present." The Doctor, struck with intrigue, inquired, "Sorry, what's all this about a well?"

"Well, in the Dragon Temple near the swamp," began Spyro, "there is this Well that someone can look into to see visions. Even the thoughts and memories of others. And there's one here too, right?"

"Yes, but only certain dragons have such an ability to do so," said Kindlea, "Like you, Spyro, Ignitus was one of those few. And given that he instructed you in such methods, he would also have told you to be most prudent with such a gift." Sensing the young hatchling's insistence and urgency, she firmly spoke the final sentence in the form of sage advice. The Doctor, after nodding his head to acknowledge such information, then asked about River's presence on Avalar, finally expressing his own curiosity directly.

"Three years ago," she began, "Our planet's sensors detected high levels of energy in this quadrant, emitted seven Earth years prior, possibly due to the young dragons' disappearance. It was uncharted space, so we knew absolutely nothing about this world, which speaks volumes by Fifty-fourth Century Earth standards. So the Earth governments, uncertain if these energy readings indicated something malevolent, decided to send a squadron under the guise of an archeology crew to investigate.

Dave and I were sent as crew members to legitimize our cover story, since Dave was the only member of my crew with former military experience. Just as we entered orbit, we were shot down without even a warning signal from below. Our guess it was the pirates."

The Doctor remarked, "That's what's been bothering me: how could their weapons and technology be so highly advanced? In this particular point in this world's history, no one should."

"Do not doubt the validity of Professor Song's testament, Doctor," said Hunter, vouching for River, "After viewing the spectacle from above, we sent a scouting troupe to investigate what it was that the pirates wanted so keenly to dispose of. We discovered them from among the wreckage recovering."

"Our commanding officer and sergeant were both killed on impact," Dave elaborated, "And believe it or not, we unanimously voted River as our stand-in leader, given how the rest got much less experience in terms of uncharted area than her."

"Our mission was to establish a peaceful alliance with the inhabitants of this planet, if at all possible, or send a distress signal for reinforcements if necessary," River continued, "Our distress beacon was rubbish in the crash, but the Cheetahs helped us back on our feet and get a foothold of this place. Also, we needed to determine the energy source we detected. Guess we were somewhat successful in both regards. We scanned the gems here, and they've got the same energy signature as the blast from our sensors, though with merely a fraction of its intensity. Again, probably the work of the two dragons, since everyone told us the story of how this world was literally falling apart."

"But wouldn't Earth have sent back-up after you've lost contact with them anyway," the Doctor brought up.

"Our planet still has a few… _bureaucratic _glitches in the system to deal with," answered River, "So even with the Third Earth Empire fleet that can travel light-years within hours, they only sent a light cruiser close behind. It must've been blasted as well, I suppose, because we've never spot it. It was never in orbit like us, so no debris has ever fallen. Anyway, after the locals here debriefed us on their current situation, we offered them the means of defending themselves against the pirates' latest weaponry."

"Yes," Professor Mole spoke up, "They offered us the designs and information required to forge our own weapons, including details of what material is required, and what methods they used to mold and assemble them, which, I must say, was most intriguing to observe, concerning such creativity and focus on even the smallest piece."

"Yeah, creativity for more destruction, that is," the Manic Physician muttered, "So, do you lot have any idea of how the pirates got this weaponry?"

"Well, it has long since been speculated," Volteer answered "That a few remaining stragglers of the ape rogues aligned themselves to these vicious, ruthless, and bestial renegades, and instructed them in the ways of harvesting, collecting and utilizing the amazing source of power from the crystals in support of their rebellious cause."

"That may be, but despite such knowledge and means, these pirates shouldn't have this sort of technology to shoot down spacecraft, much less detect it." Then the Doctor concluded, "So the pirates themselves have an outside source, as well. And that source is someone who is, or are, both familiar with me, and the significance of my T.A.R.D.I.S."

"Well then," spoke Kindlea, "If we are now finished discussing previous knowledge and suppositions, let us press this council forward. Professor Mole, I believe you have yet to share your most recent progress with us." After clearing his throat, and fiddling with his spectacles, the Professor said, "Um, yes. Quite right, Kindlea. Well, after a bit of work on what the Guardians seized during one of their previous encounters with the pirates. I believe we have before us a teleportation device."

At this, the mole scientist finally removed the sheet from a long cart that had been standing to the side during the entire conference. From underneath, stood a tall, metallic archway, enveloped in wires and string of various colors. The arch itself was wrapped by steel rings, designed to maintain its structure and integrity, and off to one side of its base was a rectangular piece of machinery, containing different pieces that functioned as buttons and levers.

"This, the Guardians believed, might prove to be a useful means of infiltrating their fleet much more easily and successfully," he continued, "And with the Doctor's help, I was able to reverse engineer its mechanical functions, and we were also able to duplicate its power source."

"Let me guess," sighed Cynder, "with a dragon crystal?"

"Aw, I was about to say that," Sparx quipped.

"No," the Doctor protested, then uttered with a disgruntled tone, "My screwdriver. I was able to replicate the energy signature pattern off the crystals and gave the machine its own substantial power source."

"Wow," the golden dragonfly gleamed as if he understood, "And that still doesn't work on wood?" Just then, Kindlea cleared her throat and said, "Professor, if you may please continue."

"Yes, of course. Now, if you could all offer your attention to this pad of sorts here, you will find several of these sections of gadgets for various functions and uses. With these buttons here, one can insert the proper coordinates for transportation via another teleportation device. It is here also that the Doctor discovered recorded data of other active teleports in the global area that have been, and are still in use." It was at this moment the Doctor took point in this presentation by stating his deductions, "The coordinates also show us what destination has been entered the most often, in terms of traveling to and from a certain place. So, that means that there's a teleport that is most active among the others the pirates have, which could therefore belong to the mother ship, where the T.A.R.D.I.S. is most likely kept."

"Also where their leaders and head technicians are gathered," joined in Terrador.

"That means we can end this war once and for all," Spyro brightened, "and stop whomever's causing this."

"Yeah, that also," the Doctor uttered with much less certainty.

"Then what are we waiting for," snapped Cynder with a sudden surge of adrenaline, "Is the thing working yet, or not?" Before anyone could reply, however, the sound of horns blasted throughout the entire city. All of Warfang was now on full alert.

"Master Guardians," shouted a messenger mole who rushed into the council chamber as short of breath as his height, "Thousands of grublins, wyvern… and trolls have been spotted…heading this way to attack Warfang."

"I'm afraid this will have to wait for further discussion," Kindlea said, in answer to Cynder's question.

"Indeed," spoke Cyril, "We must call upon everyone to arm themselves, and summon all to battle stations."

"What? No!" Both hatchlings exclaimed.

"I'm sorry," Kindlea said in a slightly hushed tone, "But we need all the help we can get to shield Warfang from this ever-growing shadow that has returned."

"Yes," stammered Volteer, "the catastrophic and cataclysmic size of this menacing, evil, and unwanted mayhem must take first priority."

"Without Warfang," Terrador finished, "we would have little or no foothold against the pirates."

"But now we have a chance to really do some damage to them," pleaded Cynder.

"She's right," joined River, "We shouldn't be wasting this opportunity, because it might be the only one we've got. After all, they know we stole this teleport from them, they would be ready for us from here on out.

"Yeah," the Doctor added, eager to locate and recover his T.A.R.D.I.S., "the best chance for us right now is to teleport onto their mother ship when they think we're most vulnerable."

"But how would they know that," Glintz asked, "It's not like they've kept in touch with these grublin things for the last ten years."

"They tend to know when and where we're in a tough spot," replied Professor Song, "If anything, they're probably on their way here right now to view the spectacle, or join in the fun perhaps."

"But, Doctor, Professor Song," Spyro said, briefly offering a quizzical, though extremely anxious expression, "What makes you think the two are con-"

"There is no more time to waste," Terrador shouted, so as to be heard from the increasing bombardment occurring outside the citadel.

"Indeed," Cyril said in kind, "If you wish to take this chance, then I suggest you organize yourselves and leave at once."

"I need to get back to my T.A.R.D.I.S. as fast as possible, so I'm definitely going."

"So are we," came the quick response from Spyro and Cynder.

"I'll go with you," River volunteered.

"I shall join you also," Kindlea stated, looking at the Purple Savior and reformed Terror of the Skies, "We Guardians should never allow you hatchlings a moment out of our sight until further notice."

"But supposing you three are low on energy," Cyril argued, "We can't afford to lose anyone in such a hazardous endeavor."

"They will have plenty of crystals on the ship waiting for us," responded Cynder with confidence, "So we don't need to take any with us."

"That's right," Spyro added, "We'll leave the ones down here with you to protect Warfang and travel light."

"In that case," said Terrador, "The remaining Guardians will stay here and lead the defenses." At this, the Cheetahs elected to remain as well, running as hastily as they could to meet with their comrades.

"I suppose I should stay here also," Professor Mole stammered, "So as to maintain the teleportation machine here in Warfang and guarantee your escape."

"Dave," River shouted, "That leaves you and the squad with guarding duty. I've got a feeling things are about to get nasty, so don't let anything near the machine, or harm the Professor."

"Marm," he shouted in salute, "You just better watch yourself."

"No promises," she smirked as she shifted her eyes towards the Doctor. At that, Dave dashed out of the chamber to rally the remaining humans outside.

"Alright," exclaimed the Irregular Dragonfly, "The dynamic duo is back to paint the town!"

"No, Sparx," Kindlea ordered, "You are still labelled as injured, so that leaves you unfit for this mission. Glintz shall act as our reconnaissance."

"Sorry, honey," Glintz quickly offered a consoling gesture, "Maybe next time."

"Just be careful, okay? Don't want you making too much trouble while you're gone."

"Only as much as you have," she quipped in response. At this, the two share one last embrace before he returned to look after the larvae, as well as offer anything and everything he can do to help.

"It's ready," shouted the mole scientist, who pressed the activation switch as the Doctor instructed him. The space from within the archway began to glimmer a radiant violet, as it soon appeared in the form of a vertical pool, showing a wooden chamber on the other side. As all of Warfang ran into the ever-mounting fray and chaos, the Doctor, Professor River Song, Kindlea, Glintz, Spyro and Cynder each took a step forward before entering through the portal.

"Here's where all the excitement truly starts," River beamed, as she looked over to face the Doctor, almost anticipating a smug grin from him in return, along with a-

"Allons-y," he exclaimed, with widened eyes facing forward.

_Of course. Nevermind_. Following closely behind, River leapt into the ever-glowing pool of violet, with the dragons and dragonfly in tow.


	14. How We Got Here

**Please Read: First of all, I apologize, once again, for my extended absence from this site. Given my extended working schedule after actually finding a summer job this year, it has been exhausting at the end of each day to even settle down to write on weekends. Secondly, this chapter is meant to pose more questions, while also offering elements from both worlds into the story. Even though these may seem used merely for fandom, I also intended to use them from the beginning to offer clues to push this tale forward, as I've attempted to do with every chapter. Thirdly, please send your responses to my latest updates. Be they positive or negative, as long as they are clean, clear and to the point, all feedback to my story is encouraged. Enjoy, and God Bless.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters or story references in this fiction. All rights belong to BBC and Sierra Entertainment Productions.**

Fourteen

How We Got Here

_Well, so much for a surprise attack_. The searing pain that ran down his spine was the first thing he sensed to regain his cognizance. His dilated pupils of lilac and inflamed eye veins were opened to find himself within a large holding cell of wood, where the teleport was conveniently placed. He could recall the haze of a pirate hound and ape legion waiting to ambush from behind. It was all so sudden, and everything ended before it ever began. The forces they encountered immobilized the small attacking party with their latest weaponry, which was clearly meant to render them cataleptic, offering very little time for anyone to retaliate.

"Cynder?" Spyro shakily rose to his feet, believing, now, more than anything, that this was becoming a regular occurrence. He scanned his surroundings, caught a brief glimpse of the machine behind them, then he cautiously made his way to his dark violet companion to avoid prompting any further possible injuries to spasm. He lowered his head to aid her in rising from the wooden floor, and offered, "You okay?"

"We should try not to make a habit of this, anymore," grunted Cynder with an attempted smirk alongside her wince of pain.

"Anything broken?"

"Just my pride, but that's nothing new. How about you?"

"My back's killing me, but right now, I just hope everyone else's fine."

"Yeah, me too."

He could remember, however, that with her size and speed, Glintz was able to maneuver away from the plasma projectiles, and made her escape through the wooden cages. After analyzing the cell they were inside of further, he noted Kindlea and Professor Song already awoken and silent, while the Doctor seemed occupied with his strange device and the teleport. He also came to the conclusion of Glintz being nowhere in sight, and that the enemy was able to disperse quickly enough to lock them inside, as well. Or perhaps they had been unconscious longer than he thought.

_Unless_… Spyro then quickly looked at the device they had recently passed through with great apprehension, hoping against all hope that the scenario he envisioned was a reality.

"Now, easy there, Spyro," the Doctor spoke up, remaining focused on his work, "They can't do a thing with that machine, now. It's just a piece of scrap for the moment, and we're the ones guarding it." Cynder asked, "What are you talking about?"

"The moment those dogs and primates attacked, they primarily focused on taking down you dragons, before anyone else. So, I used those few nanoseconds, which was more than enough time for me, to change the access code to activate it, and shut her off. Plus I could absorb most of the energy from their stun blasters, so I managed to make a few more minor adjustments when it was clear to get back up."

"So Mole can't do anything on his end, I expect," River spoke as evenly as he did, for she seemed to possess the same trail of thought as their alien time traveler. Spyro observed this, not only in terms of the Doctor's latest handiwork, but also in playing possum, it would appear, for her wit, demeanor and determination were well maintained after the attack, as well.

"How come you three don't seem to be phased by the blasts," asked a curious Cynder, "while we were out for much longer, and hurt more?"

"As a Timelord, I can absorb high amounts of energy," the physician responded plainly, then tilted his head toward the archeologist, "Not sure about her, though. She should've been dead, by now."

"Spoilers," was her sole reply.

"The weapons not only rendered us unconscious, but also weakened us," Kindlea spoke for both herself, and the hatchlings, "That pain you feel down to your tail, is an effect of having all your energy drained so your body may survive the ordeal. So in our case, they actually attempted to kill us. And one more shot should have, indeed, proven to be fatal."

"Using stunners repeatedly to kill," pondered the physician, "I'm guessing they really hate you lot."

"But what did you mean the Professor can't help us," a concerned Spyro inquired, "Couldn't he just turn the machine back on and give us a chance to get back?"

"Nah. He doesn't know it, but I instructed him to set the teleport for one trip before switching off automatically. Other than that, the Professor has no idea how to properly operate it. Besides, teleports work both ways, including activation and deactivation."

"So you anticipated this to be an ambush, all along," firmly, and angrily said the Fire Guardian, "And you still were willing to risk our necks to attempt a retrieval of your vessel?"

"Well, I knew they would be expecting _someone_," he answered with a wary shrug, "and that there was a fifty-fifty chance they'd want whomever they were expecting alive – well, sixty-forty chance – well, sixty-five-thirty-five – well, sixty-seven-thirty-three approximately, but that's still pretty good."

"Now that's more like it," uttered River with a grin.

"Why you…" Cynder then made a suddenly aggressive advance towards the Doctor, hoping to brace him sporadically against the wall. Spyro, however, managed to hold her back before she could reach him. "Cynder, don't!"

"Let me at him! He's been asking for it ever since we met him! First he gets us home ten years ahead of when we were supposed to be, brought back the grublins by having his enemy here, and now he's put us all in line for the executing block with no way out for no good reason!"

"Look, I'm sorry. I really am, but I wanted to take this chance to see what we're up against, exactly."

"And what have you learned, thus far, Doctor," Kindlea offered, with a clear effort to contain her rage well enough to allow herself to question him with such admonishment.

"…Not a whole lot. B-but, just, just listen, it's only a matter of time before we get enough information from these brainless, dog, pirate…things, and set up a proper plan of stopping whoever's behind all of this."

"Now that is the tactician that I recognize most dearly." An eerie, electric voice that echoed from the corner, accompanied by a low hum, was nearing their cell. "After all, it was that marvelous mind of such cold, heartless calculation that provoked me to destroy my own world. But I suppose you're the only one who truly knows something about that in double measure, don't you?"

"Who's there," growled Cynder, hoping to channel whatever fury she had for the Doctor onto whatever she could reach. The Doctor, however, seemed genuinely stunned at this moment, given how the plasma blasts failed to do so. "No. No. No. No. It can't be. No."

"Why," Spyro asked with wary puzzlement, "Who is it? _What_ is it?"

"It's impossible."

"Oh, I do believe anything is, indeed, possible, Doctor. You of all creatures should be well aware of that." The silhouette that impressed upon their line of vision soon revealed a disabled figure in a mobile seating device as it emerged from the shadows, with a blue light emanating from the center of its forehead.

"It just can't be." The wandering physician rubbed the back of his neck, then its side, with great perplexity and concern.

"Welcome to what is soon to be my new world, Doctor. The hour is rapidly approaching for the rise of New Skaro."

"Really," scoffed Professor Song, "A crippled, old man in a wheelchair is our mad, evil scientist of the week? Honestly, I was expecting something a bit more substantial."

"It appears my reputation fails to precede me. Tell me, Doctor, do your companions continually develop a slight degree of ignoramus? Or do you simply wish to introduce me to them whenever I encounter you at your own convenience?"

"Believe me, Davros, seeing you has never been convenient for me. Look, I get it. You stumbled onto this planet, saw the ever-growing chaos ensued on the surface of this miniscule world below your pompous vantage point, and used that, as well as your nostalgia of home, to your favor, and engineered your latest weaponry and technology with the energy from the crystals. Now you intend to take your literal pets to the labs for genetic mutations to become your next generation of Daleks –"

"Daleks," River seemed to gasp in sudden recognition.

"-and rebuild this world from the ground up to make your new home world, where you can be supreme ruler of the galaxy, then later the universe. You would, at last, be able to have all the Daleks under your control, since, you know, given they're loyal hounds, and all, they'll do anything for your affection. Also you can use their bestial instincts to your advantage, exterminating anything and everything on sight. Okay? I get all that. But what I don't understand is how you even managed to –"

"Not merely these bipedal canines, Doctor," Davros cut himself into the Doctor's quick summary of his plot. "Really, such brashness from your latest face has made your wit so…degrading. Not even a care to satisfy your curiosity of what happened to those feline creatures, who have disappeared of late?"

"The missing cheetahs from the village," asked Spyro in realization.

"What did you do to them," followed Cynder, who still spoke as though anticipating the first opportunity to strike.

"They are safely contained in cells like this one, for the time being," said Davros in reply, "along with other specimens for future experiments."

"And those parrots," the purple dragon inquired with recollection.

"Their brutish mongrel for a perch devoured them per my insistence. He found them most aggravating to tolerate any further."

"Okay, yes, then there's the apes and others for your experiments, as well. I get the message." The Doctor, at last, growing rather impatient, brought himself back into the dialogue. "But my main question to you is this: how did you even manage to get out of your Dalek Crucible? It was disintegrated. No one could possibly survive that. Not even with an escape pod."

"Ah! I remember that fateful day all too well. To think it has been more than two years, though it seems a lifetime ago. It was the moment after I named you most fittingly _The Destroyer of Worlds_ when I was hopelessly trapped in my containment vault without any means of escape. When suddenly, such beauty, such destructive, superior power, a rift in the fabric of reality was opened before me, as if it were a gateway to my new life. A voice came from within, promising me the chance for revenge against you if I passed through it. I had done so with most pleasant volition, and stumbled upon this miniscule planet, as you so adequately described, Doctor."

"So, once more, you're a pawn – well, okay, rook – well, no, I take it back, pawn – of somebody else's greater scheme to destroy me, this world, and most likely the universe."

Professor River Song then decided to make an enquiry of her own, choosing to stand shoulder to shoulder, evenly with the Doctor, "So it was your weapons and technology that's been helping the pirates all this time, and shot down our ships?"

"Of course, my dear. I couldn't afford anymore interference to this planet than there already has. However, it appears I was not as successful in that endeavor, seeing how you have clear connections to my recently-juvenile adversary."

"Trust me, you've seen nothing, yet," River responded with the shake of her head, and a slight chuckle.

"But now," the aged cripple continued, "I have the opportunity to personally witness the correction of my own mistakes. All while you witness my rise to power as I finally destroy you, for sure.

"And how precisely will you do that," asked the orange elder.

It was then that Davros summoned another creature lurking in the shadows. It possessed a glowing pair of green eyes, a horn on its head, a tail as short as its height, sharp claws and orange reptilian hide. It advanced on its hind legs, moving much like the other bipedal creatures of this world, wearing a violet cloak. "Yes, My Creator?"

"Allow me to introduce to you my greatest enemy," spoke Davros with a cordial air of pride, "the Timelord known only as the Doctor."

"Doctor…what?"

"Actually it's just –"

"I know, you buffoon," he derided the Doctor midsentence, "It's merely the Doctor, as My Creator already stated. I may be short and subservient, but I am certainly no fool! I also made the deliberate attempt to avoid the most frequent question concerning you."

"Now how would he know that," muttered Professor Song under her breath, though not without Davros' notice. He answered, "My most successful test subject to date projects an intelligence quotient far greater than you can imagine, my dear. He has the capacity and knowledge to calculate probabilities far more quickly than your race's most advanced computer in all its evolutionary history can ever hope to accomplish. Such a feat, isn't it? Only the first, however, among many in the renewal of my far more superior creations."

"He's a…uh…uh…dinosaur." The Doctor bent over to further examine the creature before him.

"Indeed," he replied, much similar to Davros' tone of arrogance, "Since my master has given me such a powerful gift, I feel myself to be highly privileged among my endangered, primitive kind. I owe my very existence to him."

"A miniature carnotaur, by the looks of him," the physician continued with his objective study.

"Quite the adorable rhinoceros, if you ask me," smirked River in kind.

"You are both rather close, actually. I am what is known as a rhinocerous riptosaurus, a near relative to the carnotaurus."

"Sorry," the Doctor said, as if to regain his focus on the current issue, though only momentarily, "Did you say endangered?"

"Yes, my home and race have nearly been annihilated by the war waged by the…the…the…" the purple covered reptile then turned his focus onto the hatchlings and Fire Guardian nearby with great disdain and abhorrence. "Dragons! _I_. **Hate**. **_Dragons!_**"

_Oh, boy_, thought Spyro with more discomfort than what he possessed earlier, _Looks like we're in _big _trouble, now_.

"I'm guessing there's a feud between the two of us," he politely offered.

"What was your first clue," Cynder remarked.

"Sorry, I guess Sparx must've rubbed off on me a little."

"Yeah, same here."

"Oh, believe me, little hatchlings," growled the diminutive creature before them, hoping to maintain their full, undivided attention, "There is far greater rage in this small, dinosaur's heart than a mere vendetta to quench it. It was your race that brought war upon my homeland, claiming to aid in our defense against _your_ rogue, Malefor, only to wreak havoc onto our most tranquil settlements and valleys, and flee when you could, the cowards you are."

"We did not flee," Kindlea countered, "We were greatly outnumbered by the Dark Master's forces. We offered you an escort and evacuate you to safety, but your kind's stubbornness had cost you any chance of escape for your families."

"I see, now, how _your_ kind manages to sleep soundly at night. And you purple dragons are no exception, for if it is not you that cause the death and destruction of many, you inspire others to do so on your behalf. Now, I may be a yearling who was not present for such events, but my research from the many tales told, along with accounts of several witnesses, has expanded my view upon the chaos you have all been known to orchestrate." Any further attempt to lighten the mood dimmed with their spirits, and no Sparx was present to even attempt an alleviation.

"It appears my latest creation has found the proper motivation to complete his latest task," Davros perked up even more with satisfaction.

"And what is that, My Creator?"

"Exterminate them."

"With great pleasure. Firstly, however…"

"And cue the betrayal," the Doctor commented as he observed the sentient reptile raise a portable device and pressed a button from among several others. At that, Davros' pod vanished in a flash of light from its former position a moment ago, only to reappear in the same manner, but inside the cell.

"What is the meaning of this!?"

"As I said, My Creator, I owe you my life. You have not only given me this great gift, but you have also taught me everything you know. First the weapons, the teleports, and now the passion to pursue my own ambitions. These past two and a third years have been fruitful, if not excruciating, to say the least. However, I cannot procure an awakening of my full potential under your…torturous shadow, any longer. Here, now, is my opportunity to do so. To purge this world of these senseless beasts, along with you, once and for all."

"Such insolence, such treason," Davros spoke, raising his sole hand, pointing shakily at his apprentice with rage, "You shall pay dearly for this insubordination. After all I have given you…you think you can –"

"Can what? Get away with this," he interrupted his master with such apathy, "How could you possibly hope to outwit me, when you have displayed such a dismissive air concerning my presence, all this time? After all, you had never given me a name, _Davros_."

"Look, you little creep," sneered the young dragoness, baring her jaws, "you might be extremely smart, but there's no way you can kill us all off. Even if you sent your thugs to come in here to do it."

"Oh, I'm afraid he can," evenly stated the Doctor, standing still, with both hands behind his back.

"What do you mean," Spyro spoke with unease, readying his battle ready stance alongside Cynder's.

"You are absolutely correct, Doctor," the dinosaur peaked with renewed vigor, "I most certainly do have the capability to execute you all precisely where you stand. And it was you, Doctor, who have provided me with the means of doing so."

"What's he…" "…talking about?" Both dragons questioned with even more anxiety.

"The teleport," said River and the Doctor in reply.

"Correct, again! With this device, I can override any controls or access keys of any kind from my master's creations, and subvert them to my every command. Even those that have been altered from an outside source, I placed an algorithm to cancel out said adjustments. Of course, that also includes a reprogramming of the machine by having it switched off, and recalibrate it for self-destruction. Thankfully, Doctor, you spared me the possibility of enduring such a hindrance."

"Oh, that's very good," smiled the physician widely with admiration, "Very, very clever. Genius, if I do say so. Wouldn't you agree, Professor Song?

"Oh yes, very ingenious. Couldn't have done it better, myself. And that speaks volumes, especially considering present company."

"Yeah, and may I say…sorry, what?"

"I mean," the archeologist continued, "you've got everything set up precisely as you planned, no doubt. Checking, double-checking, and then double-triple checking, to ensure that no possible means of survival could ever be granted to us, nor your creator.

"What are you two doing," a stunned Spyro queried.

"Yeah, why are you congratulating him," Cynder remarked in kind, "He's about to kill us!"

"As much as I appreciate the credit that is due to such an incredible genius, as myself, I am inclined to agree with this line of thought. Why this sudden flattery?"

"Well, it may be true that you are incredibly clever, stupendous even…" the Doctor began.

"…But I'm afraid you've overlooked one small, yet crucial detail," River ended.

"Care to oblige me with how you came to that conclusion," the orange reptile requested.

"Actually, we do," she replied, "You see, your master's technology is powered by something that's only found on this planet."

"And. And," he persisted, "such a power source has only been known, until recently, that is, to have been collected and used by only one of this planet's native species."

"And, of course, everyone here should know what that species is."

"Dragons," both hatchlings exclaimed in realization. They then, alongside Kindlea, pounced upon, and rapidly smashed the crystals connected to the teleport with ferocity, and absorbed the shards of radiant energy that followed. "NO!"

"I mean, really," the Doctor continued, "After all that fuss about how much you hated them…"

"…It's hard to believe you've forgotten how much you truly need to study them," finished River.

"Keep your friends close, and all that."

"But you're still young, so there's at least a learning curve involved, dear."

"This is far from over!" The enraged dinosaur teleported himself out of sight and sound, as all three dragons broke down the cage doors into thousands of splinters. They then advanced into the corridor, incapacitating whatever forces that sought to respond to the sudden change of events that stood in their path. With their martial maneuvers and elemental portents, despite being in such tight quarters, the conflict was reduced to corpses of renegades, and piles of ash rather quickly.

**Again, please be sure to send a review, expressing your thoughts and concerns, whether it'd be my writing style, characterizations, or whatever comes to mind. I would most deeply appreciate that. God Bless.**


	15. The Brief, Unwanted Return

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters or story references in this fiction. All rights belong to BBC and Sierra Entertainment Productions.**

Fifteen

The Brief, Unwanted Return

"Davros," the Doctor promptly spoke, while raising his sonic device out from his suit pocket, "I know I'm asking you a lot in saying this, but where is my T.A.R.D.I.S.?"

"Never," shouted Davros in return, "I should rather die than to aid in your escape."

"Well, then I guess you'll get what you wish for, here in a bit," said Spyro with a shrug, as he caught his breath after the skirmish.

"It's got to be embarrassing," Cynder continued in kind, "to be handled and killed off by your own henchosaur."

"Henchosaur?" He looked at his dark violet companion with slight amusement.

"I know, Sparx would've said it better."

"Where's Glintz, anyway," he partially inquired to himself, recalling the emerald dragonfly's absence.

"Fulfilling her task, no doubt," the Fire Dragoness replied, "Come on, we must press on and accomplish our own, if we wish to meet with her and make any progress in ever winning this war."

"It's your choice, Davros," the physician stated firmly, then reiterated the dragons' statement, "Either you come with us to relocate my blue box, or sit here and wait for your little lab rhino to transport you wherever you won't ever survive, and restore your precious Daleks another day."

_Looks like our little Pinocchio has got the strings on Giapetto_, River inwardly remarked with a grin.

"Sorcerer bested by his Mickey Mouse apprentice," he concluded, as if he were aware of her thoughts, "You catch our drift? Again, entirely up to you."

Just then, as Davros begrudgingly considered his options, out popped Glintz from the cell's stern hole, waving her hand to her face. "Phew, honey! Never doing that again, nuh-uh. Hey, Doc! If you still want your blue outhouse, I know where it is."

"Did she just call my –"

"Brilliant," River exclaimed, "let's go!" Taking his hand into her own, Professor Song leapt into action herself, dashing through the splintered ruins of their cell doors. After fully recuperating from their momentary scuffle, the dragons follow suit, placing themselves behind the humanoid life forms running down the corridor.

"Wait," Davros cried out pitifully, as he motioned his craft after them, "I can still be of service to you."

"Oh, now he's changed his mind," Cynder growled with the roll of her eyes as they all halted to turn towards their latest obstacle, as they stood. Kindlea answered, "Either he intends to save his own hide, or delay us further. But we should quickly contemplate our next course of action and press on, at once."

"Agreed," said River as she reached for her scanner and strapped rifle from the pile of confiscated items, then holstered her pistol, "We need a plan of attack."

"Well, we can't stay in the same room as Davros for too long," the Doctor quickly offered after he directed his screwdriver unto the mobile device in which Davros sat once again, "His cheeky little traitor can, and will recalibrate his hovercraft into a war machine for dodge'ems. Because I just deactivated his teleportation circuits to prevent him from escaping, or being swapped places against his will again. He'll remotely reactivate it, and recalibrate it soon."

"What's stopping him from doing anything right now," the purple youth asked.

"I reversed the signal from his remote control. Only a temporary solution, I know, but it at least offers us a few minutes for him to figure it out."

"Nice," Glintz nodded while crossing her arms, feigning comprehension both of what was said, and whom they were speaking of, "Any more bright ideas?"

"I say we storm this ship and bust out as many of the prisoners here as we can."

"I'm with you," Spyro agreed with the violet dragoness, "Whatever we do we can't just leave them behind."

"I fear that is out of the question," countered the Fire Guardian with reluctance, "It would require a great exertion of our energy supply, not only in combating the guards, but also in dismantling the dungeons, even with these crystals stored on board."

"But they can help us take over the ship," Cynder argued.

"Not for long, I'm afraid, given the horrid conditions of imprisonment they have most likely endured."

"What about your sonic thing," Cynder directed her attention to the physician, "Doesn't it have any other tricks that can help us?"

"Look around you," he responded with the wave of his wielding hand as he spun his head around, "We're trapped inside an airborne sailing barge, which I'm still baffled by, entirely made of wood. You understand? Wood! Unless I found a way to disrupt the molecular integrity of this vessel, which would, in theory, disintegrate the wood in a snap, my screwdriver is useless up here."

"Even if you did," added the archeologist, "calculating a replication of the substance's subatomic wave patterns would take decades, wouldn't it?"

"Centuries, actually. Why am I getting a _dèjá vú _out of all this?"

"But we don't have centuries," snapped Cynder with a growl.

"I know we don't have centuries!"

"It appears we are not even prudent with the time we have now, as we should," Kindlea bellowed impatiently, causing the ship around them to quake.

"Look," Glintz evenly, though calmly stated, "I'd say we get this insane brainiac back to his blue hut and let him have all the centuries he wants trying to fix this. Or better yet, have him leave this place, altogether. I mean, it's his bad guys we're messing with. Once he's gone, they'll follow, right?

"I'm sorry," River replied somberly, "but I'm afraid it's not that simple."

"No, wait," the Doctor promptly spoke, "Actually, she's only half right."

"What are you talking about," an anxious, now puzzled Spyro question.

"Glintz, where did you find the T.A.R.D.I.S.?"

"What's going on, now," Cynder asked with uncertainty, along with frustration. Just then, Glintz replied, "Deep in the back of the cargo hold, right below where the captain's cabin would be. Why?"

"Davros, I'm going to reactivate your teleportation circuits."

"Doctor, don't."

"Don't what," both hatchlings snapped, in response to this spontaneous shift of focus from both these alien creatures.

"What madness are you suggesting," asked a bewildered Davros, "He shall capture me, for sure."

"Yeah, and when he reactivates it remotely," the Doctor answered, while returning to work, "he's bound to make a sitting bomb for you, regardless of what I do, or don't do."

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, Doctor, please…" River spoke even more warily. Kindlea then asked, "Where are you taking him?"

"Someplace where he'll get zero reception."

"Doctor, you can't –" Before Professor Song could express her heightened concern, however, the Doctor and Davros vanished in a flash of light. _That impossible man_.

What followed, for what seemed to be an eternity, was everyone present pausing at this sudden departure of their comrade. The purple and violet hatchlings, struggling to find the right words to speak, asked in unison, "So, what now?"

"We need to get to the bridge," said River, after a great huff of frustration, "If anything, that's our best gamble of ending this fight for good."

"How nice of you _not_ to mention anything about surviving, sister," grunted the dragonfly.

"But, what about him," questioned Cynder, who was now more stunned with concern about this situation than ever before.

"If I know him well enough, and I do in spades, he's already up there to meet us. Or running a bit late, per usual."

"Then I suggest we carry on with this momentary plan," spoke the orange dragoness firmly, as she took the lead and pressed onward, "For, indeed, every moment has now become an absolute uncertainty."

* * *

Hazily, he reactivated his source of vision, stiffly raising his head from the aching crane of his neck. Focusing his sapphire field of sight onto his current surroundings left him even more baffled and confused as to the present situation in which he found himself. Looking down onto the console before him, he analyzed his controls, assessing the current status of his life support functions, and found that they had been adjusted so as to place him into catalepsy.

"Why did you render me unconscious," he wearily questioned, still sensing the nauseating throb emanating from his skull.

_Because it would allow you to consider yourself privileged_, _even though I wouldn't let you see it, much less aware of it, I won't even say it_.

"Safety hazard," a low snarl sharply snapped in return, "Don't worry, your little friend won't get you from in here."

"Why have you brought me here?"

"For insurance," was the cold reply he received, "I would like to personally witness the correction of my own mistakes."

"You intend to kill me, Doctor," questioned Davros with a chuckle, "How most unbecoming of you."

"Nah, you're just an added extra for dramatic effect in this far grander scheme we're in," the lean physician pounced out of his crouch, and encircled his captive, "I shouldn't be wasting my precious time and energy on the likes of you. Besides, I won't need to kill you."

"Whatever you intend to do with me," he hissed, "Their security will –"

"Will be otherwise occupied trying to figure out how to get in here," the Doctor cut Davros midsentence, "And by the time they're clever enough to solve my simple, little puzzle on the lock, our conversation will be long-since over."

"How did you even accomplish such an excursion to come here," he inquired, shifting the focus of his blue eye back onto his environment, which was a carbonizing hold, something he was very much familiar with. He made note of this as he observed the Doctor continuing his intervals around Davros' pedestrian mobilization. "Such a feat by Dalek Kaan had driven him to madness, the traitor he was. How are you not so affected?"

"…Maybe because I'm already stark, craven mad," he whispered with widened eyes, then squinted with a shrug, "Anyways, I didn't breach the time lock. That would've been a terrible experience, even if we survived the ordeal. No, this is before all that. Before the end, before the war, before the great threat to destroy everything, as we know it."

"Before the destruction of my home world," Davros finished.

"Oh, yes. I'm sure you've already guessed, by now, that this is during your attack of purebred Daleks on Earth, 1963, competing against your black-armored impurities to seize the Hand of Omega from my possession. Honestly, the racial undertones were literally all over the walls. The Daleks you would create after barely escaping from the debris of your planet and ship, would follow your command to begin the Last Great Time War, and you know the rest. This is the last place they would ever look to find you, because you won't even be considered missing."

"Once my presence here is discovered, however," the scientist disputed with a smug countenance, "the paradox would be far too great. Perhaps, it may even be the cause of my own salvation from the Crucible."

"I thought about that," nodded the physician, "But the paradox would have an ever larger effect on the fabric of reality than just the rift that saved you. Also, of course, I'm going to see to it that your crystalized form will be beyond recognition, to ensure that won't happen."

"How do you propose to do that, I wonder?"

"Now before I do," the Doctor continued as he stopped in his tracks directly in front of Davros, ignoring his inquisition, "There's one last thing that I want to know. You were told that by coming here, you could get revenge on me. Then, shortly after I arrived, you had pirate ships flying over my T.A.R.D.I.S. and procured it. The only way you knew where, when, and how to locate it, was that you were told those things personally by whomever's causing all of this. Someone who wanted to use you for smoke and mirrors, and direct my attention away from what's really going on here, until I'm too late. Since this operation was not carried out with a mutual advantage in mind, I'm sure you won't mind telling me about our little secret admirer."

It was then that the crippled scientist, at last, directed his singular vision straight into the Doctor's eyes. He offered a momentary hiss, while taking in a breath, before replying, "Do you truly expect me to betray the trust of my adversary's opponent, Doctor. Even if I know precisely who has been responsible for these events, as well as the true nature of his intentions, I have no desire to betray him of ever succeeding to destroy you, for that, alone, is a mutual advantage of its own."

"So it is a 'he'," perked the physician as he turned to depart, "That narrows it down quite a bit, actually. Thanks for that."

"Do not think this is the end, Doctor," he spoke, gradually raising his voice compatibly with his growing rage, "Once I have freed myself of this carbonizing prison, I shall have every Dalek of this world at my beck and call, exterminating everything to burn you out, then later, have you view the spectacle of my superior prowess most painfully as I accomplish it."

"Since when did Daleks ever inhabit this world?" The Doctor turned to face a console that stood nearby the cell block's entrance. As he activated the device, frost and ice began to accumulate around and over Davros' entire frame.

"You clearly have deluded yourself severely, Doctor, for Skaro has always been, and always will be the world of the Daleks! The Supreme Rulers of the Universe!"

"Who said anything about Skaro?" He then raised his sonic screwdriver, aiming its glowing, blue crystal towards it, then shifted its direction onto the pod upon which sat Davros.

"Do you truly believe the battle is won? That you have the proverbial high ground with your delusional concept of morality? This does not redeem you of all that you have done! What you are about to do! Your mark on this universe shall forever remain! You shall still be known for the destruction that you, and you alone, have caused!"

The icy shell that encased him began to swell with every word he spoke, and every breath he took, until eventually, the vengeful rage he expressed through his frozen demeanor remained stagnant, and immobile, though he was still alive.

"I know," the Doctor whispered hoarsely, knowing fully well Davros could no longer listen, preventing him the privilege that, for once, the two established a common ground. He then raised his screwdriver, activating its pulsating beacon, which allowed the T.A.R.D.I.S. to rematerialize precisely where he landed it.

_Park it one second ahead of everything else. Wish I had thought of that sooner. Thank you, Davros_. He then brushed his hand gently onto the wooden frame, gazing at her with unceasing remorse, saying, "Sorry, old girl. I am so, so sorry. After all that's happened, I won't do it again. I will never let anyone like him inside, ever again. I promise."

He then pushed the door open, turning to face the block of ice forming in the chamber one final time, before closing it.

_I'm sorry_.

* * *

It was the most basic in simplicity, that even a primitive reptile could have solved it. How could anyone on this world possibly overlook such a childish mockery of this race's intelligence?

"The numerological total of the words spelling 'open says me,'" the security guard commented to herself, "Even a simpleton could have guessed…This is Security, I have gained access to the infiltrated cell."

"_Do you detect signs of any intruder_?"

"Negative," she responded evenly, regaining her composure after the ordeal, "No signs of a Type 40 in here, though artron levels indicate that there was one a moment ago. But right now, I am detecting a life form, sir."

"_Where? Can you see it_?"

"That's a negative, also, sir," she answered, moving her way towards the console, "The life form has been carbonized, sir. So much so that whatever it is, it's completely covered in ice. No means of identification."

"_Shut down that cell. Once it is thawed we shall determine its species and origin_."

"Yes, sir." She analyzed the software to assess whether that has been tampered, as well, only to find that it, indeed, has. "Er, sir. I'm afraid that's not possible."

"_What? Care to explain yourself, Prison Guard 712-Omega_?"

"The console that controls it, sir. It has been altered, sir. The signal has been transferred somehow to whatever lies inside. The only way to override the software adjustments, is to physically gain access to it."

"_So there are no means of releasing it_?"

"No, sir. Not unless you want to blast the entire sector."

"_Very well. Return to your post at once, 712-Omega. I expect a full report to the High Council about this_."

"Yes, Captain," she huffed, as she closed the transmission on her headset. Then, turning towards the door she wondered, "What idiot infiltrates the most secure correctional facility in the galaxy, with a decommissioned Type 40, all to break somebody in, instead of out?"


End file.
